Slight Return
by GratuitousViolets
Summary: Sequel to Darkness Within. Rogue has been gone from Bayville for four months to work on her recovery on Muir Island while Remy has spent four months recovering and training, finally joining the X-Men fully. Rogue may be ready to come home, but is Remy prepared for her return?
1. Part 1

**Slight Return**

**Part One**

* * *

**** This story is a continuation of the Magnetic Attraction and Darkness Within story arc (which I encourage you to read first so you know what's going on, lol). There are probably (most definitely) going to be some mentions of suicide, themes of depression (although nowhere near as severe as the previous stories), and most definitely mentions of sex and sexual situations. So, I'd say if any of these are triggers, just keep yourself prepared that something may pop up every now and then. **

** I hope you'll all enjoy this instalment. Thank you to those who made the previous two stories such a joy to write. On with the story :) ****

* * *

Remy LeBeau was shaken awake abruptly from sleep; it seemed he'd just barely shut his eyes and it was time to wake up.

It was Jean Grey's hand upon his shoulder. The red-head had shaken him awake and as he opened his eyes to look at her blearily in his exhaustion; he'd expected to see his bedroom, but he realised instead found himself in the Blackbird on the journey home from their mission. He'd fallen asleep unintentionally, but he supposed sleep had to be taken when he could get it these days.

"We're home," she said gently.

"Already?" he mumbled wearily, he tried to straighten up in his seat suddenly aware the straps to the seat harness had been cutting into him and as he released the buckles suddenly he felt the discomfort it had left.

"I don't know how you can like, just fall asleep _anywhere," _muttered Kitty Pryde who was getting out of her own seat.

"Just gifted, I suppose," he commented, fighting the absolute fatigue as he got up.

"I don't get it, the noise and any kind of turbulence _remotely _disturb you. That's not normal," Kitty muttered.

"I've fallen asleep in some pretty messed up places over the years, petit. A little old supersonic jet ain't gonna break my forty-winks," he smirked at her, then left the Blackbird, having to hold onto any surface nearby just to keep himself upright.

While he'd gained back _most _of the stamina over the past few months, he still exhausted easily. Working from five in the morning until midday cleaning motel rooms (slightly less tiring the two hour longer shift he'd had until May), an hour or two of training and working out and then to top it off an hour of Danger Room...all of these things added up and left him drained at the end of the day.

Missions added to that list.

Remy supposed he should count himself lucky to be able to work on adrenaline and nerves; during missions he rarely _ever _felt the strain or exhaustion pulling at him. After missions happened to be a different matter, he called it the _after-mission hangover, _as usually for a day or so after each mission, practically every muscle would ache and he'd feel so tired that he'd have to load himself with coffee and Red Bull just to get through it.

It had only been the past month that his condition had really begun to improve; he almost felt like he were back to his old self again. His agility was reasonably near to where it had been, his strength and stamina were getting better every day; the only thing that had really proven to be a problem were his powers. It had been almost nine months since Rogue had drained him and left him nearly dead. After his three month coma, he'd spent five months recovering and almost everything _but _his powers had returned to him. Not his natural charm, not his inhuman agility and certainly _not _his kinetic charge; playing cards wouldn't do much more with a charge than give a faint fizzle and pop. Fire crackers were more dangerous...in fact, Remy suspected that the exploding caps in toy guns were probably more lethal than the pathetic bangs his powers would produce.

But powers or not, he'd stuck with the X-Men and had proven himself invaluable _regardless_ of his inability to blow things up. As long as he was _able,_ he hadn't let the lack of powers stop him from being there in the midst of action. In fact, it was all he looked forward to these days.

The _after-mission hangover_, however, he wasn't looking forward to, and he could already feel it coming on.

"Are you all right?" asked Ororo Munro as she caught his elbow as he staggered a little. The backs of his thigh muscles ached from having been running.

"Just sleepy. I'll be fine," he forced a smile hoping she'd leave it at that. Since he'd awakened from his coma in February everyone had been treating him as if he were delicate and feeble, and it had only become worse after he'd gotten himself beaten up while drunk in March. Regardless of recovery, he still felt them looking at him, could see the little cogs of their minds turning as they tried to determine whether he was going to relapse or not.

He had no intentions of relapsing.

"The first few months of being in the field can be exhausting," admitted Ororo, her tone revealed she too was exhausted.

"How long before it isn't an issue any more?" Remy wondered aloud.

"That is hard to say, due to your unique situation," Ororo admitted, "but you are improving."

Remy followed the team across the hangar, their footsteps loud and clunky upon the steel floors, their voices a mumble amongst each other. They all climbed into the reasonably large elevator which was required to take them from the hangar to the mansion; just as the door closed, the sound of Professor Xavier's voice blasted out of the speaker in the wall which had begun malfunctioning as of late.

"_X-Men, I would like to call you for a team meeting in the War Room,"_ the Professor requested.

Remy leaned against the wall and groaned in his exhaustion. He'd been hoping to get to his pillow; the clock on the wall already said it was just past one in the morning, he'd barely get three or so hours of slumber before he'd have to be up to get ready to go to work.

"Right _now_?"asked Scott Summers as he hit the speak button on the wall; even he seemed to be thinking the same thing. No one wanted to be up longer than they had to be, they all wanted to get to bed.

"_Yes, if you please. It won't take long."_

Remy felt a strange churn in his stomach, instinct told him that if the Professor were holding an emergency meeting at the War Room at this hour, then it had to be important. There was always a debrief generally after missions, but when a mission returned at this time of night, usually it was only the instructors who were required to be there for it.

When it was the _entire team_ however...that meant business.

_Wonder what's goin' on? We expectin' to be ambushed or...somethin' bad gonna happen? Gotta be big if he's draggin' us into the war room at this time of the night._

The elevator moved up to the sub-basement rather than further up to the mansion level, and Remy let himself be the last to leave the elevator, trying to gather strength. The war room had been renovated as of late at least by an extra fifteen feet to accommodate a larger table in the centre, and the walls had all been panelled with new computers and screens, all of which Remy found daunting to look at.

_Eventually I'm gonna be trained to use that shit,_ he thought dully as he dropped into a high backed leather chair at the table; at least the chairs were comfortable he supposed.

The Professor moved from the touch screen computer panel he'd been working at and he wheeled across to the table, taking his place at the one spot a chair had been deliberately missed out of to accommodate him. "How was the mission?"

Remy only listened half-interestedly as Ororo and Scott debriefed him on the details of the mission, he let his eyes travel over the room absently, wondering if he'd ever know how to operate half of the technology here.

When the mission debrief had ended some five minutes later, Remy had almost for one moment thought that perhaps this might have been all the Professor had wanted to bring them in for. Perhaps there was nothing important to discuss. Unfortunately he was mistaken.

"Now that we have that out of the way," the Professor leaned forward on the table, hands clasped together, "there's something we must discuss."

"What is it, Professor?" asked Jean, her expression troubled. She seemed to be reading something from the Professor, Remy wasn't sure if it was in his eerily calm face or if she'd picked up something telepathically. He wasn't sure he cared either; he dropped his eyes to the table top and lightly let his fingers graze upon the touch screen monitor that had been embedded into the table, the screen lit up and asked for a password.

_Come on, for gods sake, I'm beat. Want to sleep,_ he thought frustratedly.

"Rogue is coming home."

Remy's eyes raised quickly from the touchscreen to the Professor; he wasn't sure why his stomach tightened. The serious look on the Professor's face said it all. Yes, this is why the meeting was so urgent. Matters like this had to be discussed.

How many months had it been since she'd gone? Remy had to think about it. It'd been the very end of March? Beginning of April? He hadn't kept track properly, there were too many things happening in his life to be able to keep up. Four months or five? Did it _matter? _What mattered was that she'd left...and now apparently, after all this time she was returning home.

She hadn't even said goodbye to him, but he supposed he hadn't expected her to either. It'd been his idea to stay away from each other, why would she make the effort to even say she was going? He wasn't sure when the decision had been made or whom exactly had made it that Rogue would be taken to Muir Island as part of her recovery. He'd only become aware of it the day _after_ when at dinner he'd heard the younger students whispering about it. He'd noticed her absence of course but he'd assumed she was being kept in the cell to further deter her from harming herself. It hadn't occurred to him she was _gone_.

Remy wasn't sure where exactly Muir Island might be in Scotland but the fact it was an _island _gave him a rough inkling that it was probably _very _remote. _Probably North, _he thought distractedly.

The fact he had never heard of Muir Island or seen it on any map (not that he had ever spent time looking at maps or paid attention in geography on the rare occasions he had gone to school) said to him that perhaps there was some reason it was deliberately omitted from maps. Perhaps it was like Area 51...he'd look it up on Google Earth and all he'd see was blank spots where detail should have been.

His thoughts were broken when Kitty blurted, "Already?"

"Already?" asked Kurt with a strange grunt, "It's been four months...you think she needed _years_ of being locked away on that place?"

"That wasn't what I meant," Kitty frowned a little, "I just mean...it's been fast...you know? It hasn't seemed like much time at all..."

Remy listened but said nothing, he took out his playing cards and began shuffling expertly without even looking at his hands. Shuffling and keeping his hands busy helped with the cigarette cravings, he wasn't particularly sure it was going to help with the anxiety of this news though. Rogue coming back wasn't good news.

For days after Rogue had tried to stab herself in the eye at breakfast _everyone _had been on edge, including the younger students who had been there to witness it. Days after she'd left rumours and speculations had gone on between them, and discussions about how there had been other suicide attempts in the past. Remy wasn't sure how the younger students had really known about those attempts other than possible eavesdropping or snooping.

Either way, four days after Rogue had gone, _everyone _had been pulled into a meeting and told the truth. Remy still remembered the Professor's words about how Rogue had been suffering for some time, and now she was going to Muir Island to recover, that the rumours, discussions and speculations needed to end, and punishments would be handed out if anyone was caught discussing it.

So for these four or five months Rogue had _never _been mentioned. It was almost as if she hadn't existed. Oh, Remy was fully well she had...everyone was. There might have been no mention of Rogue, no one had been _informed_ of how she was, but her presence somehow still lingered in everyone, it was always there in that empty seat at the dinner table, the ghost of her seemed to hang around.

Sometimes at dinner, Remy saw students look at butter knives and he was able to tell what they were thinking without the power of telepathy. Even with Rogue gone the rules about having pills in the house had _not slacked_ by any stretch; anyone with a headache or pulled muscle _still _had to go through Hank or the Professor just to get so much as a mild paracetamol or ibuprofen. Remy supposed it were just as well that the pill rule hadn't changed, for Kitty's sake, although no one else had ever discovered her problem.

_How's Kitty gonna be when Rogue gets back?_ Remy wondered to himself, making sure not to even throw a glance towards the girl; he was concerned that someone might pick upon it and then try to pick up on what he was thinking. He had to be careful now. Ever since Jean had managed to get into his head he'd never quite been able to settle in the company of telepaths.

_It took weed to get relaxed enough to get Jean inside my head but what if while she was in there she left a door or window open? What if she can get in now any time she likes and know what I'm thinking? _He worried. _Is that paranoid?_

Piotr, who had been quiet up until this point, spoke up, "Is Rogue feeling better now?"

He'd been the first to ask what Remy thought the others who _did _know her better, who _had_ been reasonably close to her should have asked. He felt almost guilty that he hadn't asked it himself. He supposed if he weren't deliberately trying to keep a distance from Rogue or thoughts of her, he might have.

"Rogue is making excellent progress with her recovery," the Professor assured.

"I don't want to sound negative, Professor," Kitty sniffed a little, "but...it seems a little, I don't know, like...soon."

Scott agreed, "yeah, I mean...four months is barely anything. It's not that I don't want to see her back. I'd be _glad _to see her back on the team, but...is she actually _ready_ to come back?"

Remy felt Scott's eyes on him, he understood what Scott meant. _What he means is...is Rogue ready to come back while I'm here,_ he thought dully.

"Everyone thinks she's ready, but time will tell," Professor Xavier put gently, "we'll all be able to tell how ready she is when she comes back tomorrow."

_Tomorrow?_ Remy blinked at the revelation. _That soon? _

"So..." Kitty cleared her throat a little, she took a breath then carefully said, "what...happens...then?"

Remy understood the question. It was what she _wasn't _saying that was the real question. Would there still be suicide watches? Would there still be locking in cells? Would Kitty be awakened several times a night with nightmares? It was the _unasked _questions that she wanted answered.

"We'll play it by ear," said the Professor frankly.

"Play it by ear?" Kitty blurted out, "are you freakin' _kiddin'_ me?"

_Clearly not the answer she wanted,_ Remy might have been amused by the reaction if he hadn't been subjected to Rogue's episodes himself. It wasn't funny when you knew how it felt to see the pain first hand, and had had to be a part of it in the process, had it affect your life as well.

"Kitty," Ororo hushed her.

"Rogue is making marvellous progress with her recovery," Hank spoke up; Remy raised his head to see him walking in, "in fact, I've just spoken to her on the phone and she's looking forward to coming home. She sounded very optimistic."

"You just talked to her on the phone?" Piotr asked, "it is almost one thirty in the morning..." he looked at his watch.

"Time zones," Remy muttered, shuffling his cards idly. He supposed even Piotr should have been aware of time zones, but then again, it was one thirty, he must have been tired too. Not everyone was at their most bright at this time of the morning.

"Oh," Piotr's face went slightly pink and he stared down to the table sullenly having made such a fool of himself.

Remy caught Kitty give him a strange quick glance; it was brief and Remy wasn't sure what to make of it. She hadn't given the boy much more than a brief glance in months. They worked well together in the Danger room and in the field but it was as much interaction as they ever had. At breakfast and dinner they were strangers, they didn't say more than two words to each other except 'pass the salt' or 'are you finished with that?'.

But Kitty and Piotr were _not _the important issue right now, the important issue was that Rogue was coming back, and Remy had to prepare himself mentally for whatever was coming. Her depression and revelations had tipped him into a pit of despair, even after she'd left he'd found it hard to pull himself back out. He'd become withdrawn and quiet.

He'd refused to go to therapy at the Professor's request. Jean had even tried to persuade him to talk to her about his feelings but he'd declined; even when she had suggested that she try to break into his thoughts again to unlock other memories.

For a while, Remy had almost considered it. There were things he had wondered about for weeks after Rogue had gone, there were things he was sometimes certain he may _have _to know. But unlocking memories with Jean meant being able to unwind enough to let her, and the only way he knew how to do that was with marijuana, which he was determined to steer clear from as well as alcohol. Neither of these things seemed to bring anything good to his life.

Besides, once bitten, twice shy. He'd tried chasing down memories and asked for revelations before and he'd been burned; those burns were _still _trying to heal. He didn't want to go down that road again, life had been far less complicated and less painful _not _knowing about the past than trying to dredge it up again. Some people were just better moving forwards than moving backwards, and he had decided he was one of those people.

"I think what Kitty was asking," Jean began, breaking Remy's train of thoughts as she spoke to the Professor, "is...what procedures will there be?"

Professor Xavier took a moment to consider the question, "for the time being, there'll be some supervision, although not as it had been."

"So...suicide watch?" Scott asked.

"No, not at all."

"She's doing _that _well?" asked Kitty, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

"Moira believes so," said the Professor, "the therapists who have been working with her are optimistic."

Remy started constructing a house of cards on the table top just in front of the touch screen monitor, he listened pretending to be only half interested.

Professor Xavier continued, "the rules about medication and pills here still stand, of course. And of course, the locking away the stronger household cleaning products, bleach and drain cleaner..." he explained, "as optimistic as I am too, I do not want to put my full trust in Rogue given previous experience. I'm sure many of you feel the same."

No one denied feeling it, Remy couldn't blame them.

"Right now, it is hard to determine if Rogue's recovery will change upon her return, but I ask you all to be vigilant and watch out for any of the _usual_ signs," Hank spoke up, "if she seems tearful, or nervous, or starts showing _any _signs of anxiety, then come the Professor or myself...if you can't find either of us, Logan or Ororo will deal with the concerns. If any _unusual _behaviour from Rogue starts occurring, that too should be brought to our attention."

"What kind of _unusual_ behaviour?" Piotr asked curiously.

"Anything you think might be a sign of stress or anxiety," Hank explained, "I can give you some reading material to refer to if you're not sure."

"Will she be rejoining the team straight away?" asked Kurt.

Hank paused for a moment, he seemed unsure how to answer, he glanced down to the Professor.

"For the time being, no. Not immediately. I've been told she's been undergoing _some _training, but I'd like her to spend time in the Danger Room with the rest of you so I can access exactly how she'll cope in the field."

Remy yawned, unable to hold back from doing so, exhaustion was weighing him down, this meeting was taking forever. He was eager to get to bed before more talk of Rogue ended up keeping him up all night with worries about what would happen when she _did _return.

"You must all be tired," the Professor realised, "let me end the meeting by just saying that I beg of you to all be patient and understanding with Rogue but to be watchful. There may be some hard feelings between some of you, but try not to let these cloud your judgement."

Remy wasn't sure what to make of that request, it seemed slightly backwards. Was he supposed to be vigilant and watchful, or was he supposed to not let past experience make him assume something would happen. Regardless of what he was being told, he had already decided that his best course of action was to steer clear of the girl. The more distance, the better.

"You may all go now," the Professor smiled, "good night."

The X-Men filtered out of the room and up to the mansion; there were questions burning on their lips but they were _all _too tired to ask them, and the subject matter was still a little too raw to touch upon right now any way. Remy supposed in the morning at breakfast they would probably all be discussing it; he wouldn't have to be there thankfully, he'd be at work by then.

He began the long and tiring walk to his attic room, accompanying Kitty Pryde along the way as her room (the one she'd soon be sharing with Rogue again) was almost directly below his.

_Fantastic, _he suddenly realised. _When Rogue starts screamin' in her sleep, I'll be getting woke up too._

It was halfway down the hall that Kitty finally spoke, "I can't believe she's coming back so soon."

He'd hoped she wouldn't say it, he'd been _begging _her silently that she just not mention it at all, but he supposed eventually she was going to vent and he understood why it would be _him_ that she went to with it. The others were fine as an ear and a shoulder, but Kitty seemed to feel an unspoken bond toward _him _in particular. He could only fathom that it was due to his being dragged down with Rogue's behaviour and depression just as much as she had been.

"Yeah..." was all he could offer in the way of reply. He was too tired for this conversation.

"Do you think it'll all start again?" Kitty asked quietly.

"I don't know," Remy responded. _If it does, I suppose I always have the option to leave...'course, that makes all the months I've spent here workin' to join the team and get back to how I was basically for nothin'._

"What are you gonna do?"

Remy stopped and turned to look at the petite brunette, her eyes were so wide and worried. He wasn't sure what she was asking exactly, was she asking what he would do if it did happen, or what he intended to do in general. Either way, he had an answer for both, "gonna keep my distance, I suppose."

"Keep your distance from her? For real?" Kitty folded her arms and sighed, "you live in the same house, you work on the same team...you eat at the same _dinner table_," she reminded.

"Works for you and Pete," Remy pointed out carefully, "and you guys work together just fine."

Kitty frowned a little and she pushed off towards her room, he walked a little behind her. She said nothing else to his comment about Piotr, but she continued the discussion about Rogue, "What do you think she'll be like?"

"Don't know," Remy sighed, growing tired with this already.

"Hank said she sounded optimistic."

"I don't think I've ever heard Rogue sound optimistic since I met the girl."

"She's always been kind of down in the dumps...I mean she's had her moments," Kitty shrugged, "but like...optimistic? What if it's just the drugs they're throwing down her throat? Pills aren't going to fix that."

Remy thought it a little ironic that Kitty was so quick to judge Rogue for taking prescriptions to help with her depression and anxiety after all the self-medicating she herself had done. Then again, he supposed Kitty knew more than anyone how a pill wasn't a magic cure-all.

Instead of arguing the point with the girl, Remy shrugged and responded with "Guess time will tell."

"Are...there going to be any hard feelings?" Kitty asked as she stopped at her bedroom door.

Remy looked away from the girl, he supposed there would be. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, he still felt some animosity towards Rogue; she'd blamed him for her condition. He understood that it had been in the heat of the moment, he understood that it was only in retaliation; it was as effective as a punch in the face for his telling her he _didn't _love her back.

He'd accepted it, he understood perfectly, but whether she meant it or not, it _still _stung. There were definitely going to be hard feelings. For that and for _many _other reasons. Not only was he still without a good portion of his power, but he was still suffering with sexual dysfunction; it was a problem he was very aware of would have _never _occurred if not for that coma.

At times he had to remind himself that he had to accept some responsibility for the coma; he'd been told that he'd made a decision on his own to be there for Rogue when she emerged from the evolution, that he'd been a willing participant in letting her kiss him to test her newly evolved powers.

Didn't matter though, there were _still_ going to be hard feelings. _Suppose somethin' should be hard, _he mused. He'd been trying to joke to himself about it far too much as of late, because it was all he was really _capable_ of doing.

_Fuck,_ he realised quite suddenly as he leaned against the wall near Kitty's door. Rogue's return wouldn't just bring animosity, it would also bring complication. It was an unfortunate side effect from everything, he'd decided, that regardless of his inability to feel remotely attracted to Rogue, somehow his body seemed to think the opposite. Spontaneous reactions and intense arousal had become a nuisance in Rogue's presence for that last week or so and it had only been after learning they'd had a brief experimental past that he'd ever gotten from start to finish without any hindrance.

But he'd sworn to himself he wasn't going _there _again. Afterwards he'd felt guilty for days and he'd avoided thinking of her like that again, it hadn't felt right. Especially not considering how stupid he'd been in leading her on by pulling her to his bed and grinding against her until he'd come to his senses.

The thought that her return may cause some complications and some discomfort suddenly troubled him.

"Remy?" Kitty asked.

"Sorry, what?" he blinked himself out of his thoughts and stared down at her again.

"You were away in a dream..." Kitty replied.

"Yeah, pretty much," Remy admitted, "head was in a dream and I think my body wants to go join it now," he pushed himself away from the wall, "I'm off to bed, suggest you do the same."

At least he had avoided answering the question, he thought almost smugly as he went through the nearby closet and through the hidden passage up to the attic space. His room was how he'd left it when he'd been dragged out of bed three and a half hours earlier; the blankets were a mess, the pillows on the floor, the bedside lamp was on but it lay on its side on the cabinet from where he'd knocked it over in his bleary-eyed attempt to get to the closet to reach where he'd left his uniform.

While undressing, the pack of cards he'd been shuffling fell from the pocket on his belt; he hadn't clipped it properly and the contents spilled. Most of the cards fell face down to the hardwood floor, except from two. The Joker was one of them, a card he'd _always _been told was _his _card (although he often liked to pretend it was the Ace of Spades) and the Queen of Hearts.

Memories rushed back of being in Louisiana with Rogue. He'd once given her the Queen of Hearts, the card he always left until last to use with his powers. The card that always got him out of sticky situations. When he'd given her that card he'd made an indirect promise to her, and a direct promise to himself inwardly that he'd watch out for her, he'd _protect _her.

And there, on the floor, the Joker and the Queen of Hearts were together, as if it were a reminder of that promise that in the end had been far too hard to keep.

He gave a grunt and looked up to the ceiling to speak to God, whom he didn't actually believe in but had to have had some kind of sick hand in this.

"You're a sick son of a bitch, you know that?" he uttered, and with that, he bent down to pick the cards up to put away. All but the Joker and the Queen. He stared at them for a moment more, feeling resentful, and angry about it; he willed every bad feeling for everything this past year that had happened and afterwards he ripped up and threw the pieces into the trash can next to his bed stubbornly.

And there it was.

The Joker and the Queen of Hearts didn't exist any more, they were ripped up and destroyed, just as he and Rogue were.

It didn't matter if they could be taped together, the tears would always show, they were no good to the pack any more, and definitely no good to each other.

* * *

**End of Part One**

* * *

**So here we are. I was going to work on the sequel for Derranged Marriage, but I've had a few PMs and people hoping for conclusions and some closure on aspects of the previous parts of this story. Before I'd even finished posting the last part of Darkness Within, I had already finished this chapter and had the next six already written in my head. While the story is fresh, I thought the continuation should keep going. Now I'm seven parts in, and more and more chapters are getting written in my head every day.**

**Hope you all enjoy this first instalment, I can't wait to get more up soon (and see what you think about where the story is going ;) ).**

**If anyone wonders about the title, it was the song I was listening to when I had the ideas for the third story (Bluetones "slight return", lol. Sometimes inspiration comes from anywhere!). Ah, anyway, off to watch family guy and chill. Hope you have a great week.**


	2. Part 2

**Slight Return**

**Part Two**

* * *

Rogue stared out of the window of her temporary apartment at the Muir Island Research Facility. Outside the morning sky was dull grey, the dark rain clouds rushed by with the horrific winds that had been howling since last night. She could hear rolls of distant thunder; she'd been hearing it since she'd awakened at five that morning.

She was going home, finally, after all these months. A sigh escaped her lips at the thought. She wasn't sure the timing was right, didn't feel ready enough to make this kind of a leap. She felt as if she'd barely just begun to settle on Muir Island, barely just begun to feel comfortable with therapy and her medication, barely begun to feel remotely normal again.

For the first month she'd spent here, she'd hated every minute, from the therapy, the medication, the way people wanted her to recover. That first month she'd been _desperate _to go back to Bayville. But as time had gone on, her tune had changed, she'd realised that staying way from Bayville had been beneficial to her, she'd found it _easier _to recover, found it easier to find some peace, been able to sleep without persistent recurring nightmares (they still occurred, just not as frequently). For these four months, it had been a home away from home.

The research facility was a huge complex of buildings; it offered everything she needed to make her stay here at least comfortable. Gymnasium, indoor pool, even an atrium and a massive greenhouse so big that it practically overshadowed the ones she'd seen in city botanical gardens. Muir Island was often rainy or horrendously windy, and so on those days she sat in the greenhouse in the warmth, reading on benches or just enjoying the peace and tranquillity, listening to the sounds of the indoor waterfalls or the sounds of the birds which lived in the trees there.

Here on Muir Island, she had a small apartment all to herself which she was sorely going to miss. Not only did she have her own kitchen area (which she'd grown to adore as she didn't feel as much pressure to eat here as she had back at home), but she had a bathroom all to herself too, and she was even permitted to shower and bathe without supervision (the supervision had been cut a month and a half ago due to how much progress she'd made). In her personal living room area she had a large TV to herself and an online rental account she could access at any time regardless of content or ratings, no one could tell her what to watch and what to not watch. She also had a console in the room, a Playstation 3 which at the time she'd thought was an absurd addition (as she'd never liked playing games) until she'd learned the staff had deliberately put it there to help her practise using gentle hand movements without breaking things; thanks to three hours a day of Grand Theft Auto 5 and Skyrim, she was able to do most things delicately without breaking or destroying them anymore thanks to having grown accustomed to using the analogue sticks and buttons. Of course, for the first few months it'd been hard to enjoy any of these things with supervision from the staff and the constant sense of being watched by CCTV cameras in nearly every corner of the rooms (except the bathroom, which was the only room she had for absolute privacy).

Therapy had been the harder part of her stay here; two different psychiatrists working together with her, sometimes the sessions were almost every day until it had slowed to three times a week during the past month. She hated having to repeat herself, having to tell the same stories over and over again. For that first month or so, every session had left her feeling broken and devastated, she wasn't exactly sure at what point things had become easier to talk about, wasn't sure at what moment, speaking about how she'd ruined her life or about how much she loved Remy LeBeau and how he'd broken her heart had become as easy to talk about as the weather or the News.

There were dieticians too, three times a week, regular as clockwork, going over food charts with her, weighing everything she ate, weighing her constantly, adapting her foods. There had been a lot of protests about her being allowed to work out in the facilities gymnasium, worries that she was burning far more calories than she'd been eating. With work she'd manage to get to the point where she was eating almost as normally as she had before her forced evolution; not only were all meals fully eaten (unless of course they tried to feed her things she hated like sprouts or green beans), but she found herself snacking through the day again, and had even begun to crave some of her favourite things like pizza, chips and ice cream.

The worst part of it all in that first month had been working with Moira's staff, the tests on her powers, going through all kinds of machines and medical examinations, at one point she'd had blood taken six times in a single month (thanks to an Adamantium needle, which she'd learned _was _strong enough to pierce her near impenetrable skin with a bit of force (luckily, Adamantium needles were strong enough that they wouldn't snap regardless of how much pressure was pushed upon them).

Part of her had been hoping in all her time here that by now Moira MacTaggart and her team may have been able to find answers to what caused her powers to do what they did, and how she might be able to control them, but even the most dedicated of researchers and the most knowledgeable were as baffled as Rogue had always been. Rogue had never hoped for solutions. She hadn't agreed to come here with ideals about the possibility of controlling her powers; it was pointless hoping for things that couldn't be, but she'd have settled for _answers,_ for an _explanation, _for a _cause._

There were aspects of her powers that Moira's team _had _been able to help her though, things she hadn't expected. It had taken _months_ of practice, and _many _falls (some of which had been quite painful even regardless of her invulnerability) to learn how to use the powers of flight she'd evolved with Magneto's machine. She'd tried to understand the _scientific _explanation Moira had given her about _why _she could fly. It was something to do with a gravitational resistance, something that in Rogue's opinion felt like reversed magnetism when she was airborne, as if the earth were _pushing_ her, starting to _propel_ her. In the end, if anyone asked what the explanation to her power was, all she could explain was 'I can fly, I don't know how', it was less complicated than trying to explain something she herself didn't fully understand.

Trying to control her flight powers had been a tedious exercise. She'd broken several parts of buildings unintentionally through falling and just recently during a flight training exercise she'd unintentionally started flying at near supersonic speeds. It had been exhilarating at first (until she'd begun to feel a little sick at least) and then a little frightening when she'd gotten lost found herself somewhere between Edinburgh and Fife; she'd almost flown into the rail bridge connecting the two but hadn't been able to stop herself from slamming head first into the road bridge further on as she'd dodged the first bridge at high speed; that had been days ago and she still had the bruise to show for it.

Thoughtfully, she rubbed her tender bruise as she remembered how utterly painful it had been. She'd had to call Moira to have her picked up after she'd dragged herself out of the water, she didn't feel much like flying with a headache after that.

Rogue supposed she'd need further training to learn how to slow down again; the powers were still new, and it had only just come to light she could use those speeds. She couldn't expect to be able to control it perfectly yet. There were probably going to be _many _more impacts to come, especially where landings were concerned. Landings were _not _as smooth as she had hoped they would be.

"Rogue, are you finished packing?"

Rogue had almost forgotten what she was meant to be doing. She'd only stopped to look out of the window because she'd heard the thunder; she'd thought perhaps lightning would follow and the trip back to the States would be cancelled due to the unpredictable weather. Part of her had started to feel relieved that it might, part of her hoped that it _would_ be cancelled. She wasn't sure she was ready to go yet.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go home. She _ached_ so much to go home that it almost physically hurt, but as much as she wanted to go home, she felt very unprepared. Months of trying to prepare herself still hadn't been enough. She needed more time, but time wasn't an option.

Rogue turned to look at Moira MacTaggart, the woman was attractive, but years of bad weather and long nights made her look older than Rogue was certain she probably was. Rogue glanced back down to her suitcase, "nearly," she admitted, the thing was _almost _completely packed.

"Wolverine has already arrived...he's waiting for you in the hangar."

Rogue hadn't spoken to him since she'd left at the end of March. Not a phone call, not a live video chat, not so much as even a _letter_. She'd tried penning letters to the man but had ended up tearing them up and throwing them away. She'd contemplated many times when on the phone to the Professor or Hank if she should ask to speak to Logan, but in the end she shied from the idea; it was hard to know where to begin when it came to talking to him. For the months she'd been here, she'd found herself often wondering if Logan had wanted nothing to do with her as _he _hadn't made any effort to talk to her either. She'd thought perhaps that he may have intentions of avoiding her for the rest of their lives, that her past behaviours had burned him to the point where he was no longer willing to be burned again. As Remy had put it so perfectly four or so months ago, _once bitten, twice shy._ Logan had been bitten far more than once and she supposed she couldn't blame him for keeping distance.

So to hear now that Logan was there, waiting for her, that he would be the one to take her home was something of a shock. She'd expected it to be Hank, or even Ororo. She had _even _expected it may be the Professor himself.

Her stomach churned a little at the thought of seeing her mentor again, she'd missed everything about him from his craggy face, his wiry dark hair and his steely eyes. She'd missed the gruff-gravel of that voice, the harsh way he sounded even when he was being _positive. _Even the smell of cigar that seemed to cling to him like cologne...she'd missed it all.

"You look worried," Moira admitted, her voice was soft, her accent thick. Rogue had begun to found the way the woman talked somewhat endearing although for the first month it had annoyed her and she'd struggled to understand it at times. That first month on Muir Island had been difficult not just due to the treatment and the therapy but due to the apparent language barrier, as she'd been convinced that these people _couldn't _be speaking English. Slowly, she'd grown to understand, and even feel affection for the way they spoke, even for the harsh sometimes crude ways everyone spoke as if they were jocks in a gymnasium locker room. She'd never heard the 'C' word uttered quite so much and quite so casually in all her life; it had come as shocking at first but now it no longer phased her. She wondered what the rest of her friends would make of that.

"It's just..." Rogue sighed, "what if...Ah'm not ready to be there yet?"

"You'll be fine," Moira moved over to help her with the packing, "Doctor Foster says you're ready, Doctor MacTavish thinks you're ready..."

Rogue wondered how much she could trust the two; they were highly recommended, best in their field in Scotland, but could she trust they knew what they were talking about when it came to these matters? After all she'd told them how could either of them think she was ready to be home? How could either of them think that therapy sessions over video chat and continuing with her prescriptions were really going to keep her _sane_ in a place full of insanity and bad memories?

"What is it you're so worried aboot?" Moira asked as she placed the last few items into the suitcase and zipped it shut securely.

Rogue folded her arms insecurely, "the last thing most of them saw me do was try to hurt myself with a knife..." she explained, "when Ah get back...are they going to be looking at me wondering when it'll happen again?"

Moira said nothing, but gave a sympathetic nod of understanding.

"It's the looks, you know? Ah had that all the time with the others, the ones who'd seen it before...sittin' there wonderin' and waitin' for me to do somethin'..."

"But you're _no _going to do that now," Moira reminded. "You've come a long way to get away from being that person. It's time you show them how far you've come, and how much _further _you're gone to go."

As far as she had come Rogue still doubted that she was ready. But it had been decided for her. The Muir Island plan had always been intended to be temporary, but she hadn't been aware just _how _temporary. She'd expected six months, perhaps even a year, but four months was all they could give her. In a few weeks the research facility would be shutting down until November. The staff were going on leave while new technology and systems were installed. Even if she _wanted _to stay, it just wasn't feasible.

She carried her heavy suitcase with ease to the hangar at the other end of the facility, Moira leading the way. Rogue's chest grew tight with anxiety more and more with each step the closer she got. What was Logan going to say to her? What was _she _going to say to _him?_

There was only one plane in the hangar, and it was the small red-eye belonging to the X-Men. Rogue spied Logan there with his arm against the wing, one foot crossed over the other. Four months may have gone by but _he _hadn't changed. Every line was the same, even the clothes he wore were predictable. She was sure those clothes were the _exact _ones he'd been wearing when she'd last seen him.

She supposed some things _could _be dependable.

Drawing her breath, Rogue walked over uneasily, suitcase clutched between her two hands in front of her and pressed flat against her knees to hide the fact that they were slightly shaking. She didn't know why she felt so nervous to see him again. She stood several feet away from him, looking at him, feeling strangely insecure and apprehensive.

Logan gave a strange vague laugh as he looked her up and down, his eyes seemed to soak up every part of her like tissue to water, she felt studied and dissected under his steely gaze. "You look good," was the first thing he said.

She dropped her glance to the floor, she tried to control her breathing as she'd spent _months_ practising. She couldn't find a response to the compliment, she didn't find there needed to be a compliment at all.

"You just gonna stand there?" Logan asked, he raised a thick eyebrow at her.

Rogue raised her eyes unsure of what he meant; Moira leaned to her left and whispered near her ear.

"_You're supposed to go to him_..."

Rogue winced, she'd missed that...it should have been obvious. She put the case aside and walked to him slowly, not sure if she _could _initiate any kind of contact with him; the last time she was sure they'd ever been in each other's presence had been when he'd been trying to restrain her from sticking a butter knife in her eye. Could she attempt to hug him after having him go through something like that? Would he accept that?

In the end she didn't have to be the one to make the first move, he bridged the gap between them with two steps and he swept her up into his large thick arms and pulled her against his hard body into a tight hug that despite her strength seemed to almost crush her. The smell of cigars was thick on him just as she remembered, and she breathed it from his shoulder as she lay her head there. She held back tears as the emotion welled within her, it felt _good_ to feel close to him after all this time, after all the distance, after all her pushing him away, after all his pulling away.

After a moment or two had passed, he pushed her back so he could look at her once more, and he shook his head as if in disbelief, "you look so good...can't get over it. You look _better._"

"Stop it," she pleaded. She was eager to get this over with, eager to leave before it became too hard, before she resorted to begging Moira if she could stay just a bit longer. She _wasn't _ready. Staring anxiously between Moira and Logan she felt the apprehension growing. She wanted this to end quickly, like pulling off a bandaid with a quick yank, before it got too painful.

Logan seemed to understand almost as if he'd read her face like the front page of a book. He picked up the heavy case with a grunt and went to to load it into the plane, "you ready?"

"As ready as Ah'll ever be," she said in a nervous breath.

"You said your goodbyes...?"

"Last night," Rogue nodded. All she had left to do was to say goodbye to Moira. She glanced over at the older woman and took a deep breath, sighed it out feeling her stomach sinking at the thought of going so soon, just when it felt some kind of progress had _really _begun.

Moira took a step closer, "you'll be _fine_," she smiled, "you're stronger than you ever thought you were."

"What if Ah'm not?" Rogue asked, feeling weaker than ever.

"Then...we're always here," Moira gestured around her.

_Not until November,_ Rogue thought to herself, she didn't feel like pointing this fact out.

"This place is _always _here should you need it, and you'll _always _be welcome to come back...regardless of what happens," Moira assured.

Rogue wondered if she _had _to say that or if she truly meant it. "Thank you for...well...everything..."

"Come on, Rogue, we gotta go if we expect to get through this weather before the lightning storm hits..." Logan urged.

Moira put her hand on Rogue's shoulder and squeezed, "Behave yourself, be sure to keep working at everything...and no more flying into bridges..."

Rogue forced a smirk, "Ah'll try."

* * *

Remy LeBeau was starting to really dislike his job.

Oh, his boss was pleasant enough, and the hours were all right he supposed. It meant getting up at four in the morning, but at least after midday he got the rest of the day to do as he wished, which in the summer wasn't such of a hardship when it meant he could spend the hottest parts of the day lazing in the sun in the Xavier estate gardens deepening his tan.

He'd always known from the start what kind of work he'd be doing, the moment he'd applied for that job he'd expected it to be grimy work. Semen and sweat stained sheets, urine splattered floors and faeces clinging to the toilets. He'd made peace with it.

It wasn't so much the _work_ that bothered him either, it was more to do with the surroundings, dingy and depressing. They weren't great for his mood lately. And there was that _one _room on the second landing that always got to him, the one he _always _left until the end of his shift to clean, the one he always skimmed over as quickly as he could.

The one that reminded him of Rogue.

He sat there on the green chair looking at the bed, the bed he had the vaguest recollections of wanting solace from Rogue on, the want to feel her arms around him and know what _love _felt like.

At first, it had only been the memory of asking her to take away memories that had come back to him, but not long after Rogue had left for Muir Island the dreams of her had begun, dreams of being in _this _room with her.

The dreams had stopped about a month ago, ever since he'd started spending less and less time in this room, the less time he spent in here, the less the memory and the dreams of being in here seemed to persist.

Parts of his memories were still missing, broken and disjointed. Remy had never been able to remember what it was he'd asked Rogue to help him forget, and he supposed that was the point in the end. If hehad asked to be stolen of those memories, it had to be bad, he didn't _want _to chase it up and should leave well enough alone. He'd learned months back that the less he knew, the happier he was. Ignorance was most definitely bliss.

The only parts of his memories and dreams about this room that seemed to be repetitive and persistent were about _wanting_ Rogue, truly wanting her, more than just sexually but emotionally too. In the back of his mind he was _aware _of feeling it, much the same way someone might like a certain singer or actor during their pre-teens and then realise when grown up that they no longer could understand _why _they'd ever liked or loved them at all.

It was like that, only more complicated, because unlike singers or actors, Remy couldn't simply destroy all evidence like throwing away CDs or DVDs and ripping down posters. It wasn't as simple as that. These were _memories,_ and they were there.

The memories were there, it was the _emotions_ that seemed to be missing.

In the very back of his mind, he knew he'd loved her. He was very _aware _he'd felt it. But knowing it, and knowing he'd felt it was too complicated when knowing and feeling came from memories that made him feel more like an outsider watching an imposter with his body having the experiences than himself. He was too disconnected from the memories, he couldn't seem to put any feelings to them other than pity for Rogue that everything seemed rather one sided now.

And now...Rogue would be coming back.

Rogue might be ready to come back to Bayville, but _he _wasn't ready for her to come back yet. He wasn't sure he'd had enough time to recover yet from all that he had endured. A lot had happened to him, and it had all been tied to her. He'd thought he'd cut the ties when he'd suggested they stay away from each other; when she'd gone to Muir Island he'd thought it would help sever the ties further. However all through the day he'd been realising that those ties had _not _been cut, they were still there, like a handful of tangled wires in a drawer. Like wires, if he cut them, they weren't going to be any good anymore; they'd need to be properly _untangled _and he wasn't sure how he was going to do that yet. For the most part, he wanted to keep them back in that drawer in his mind until such times as he felt ready to attempt to untangle them.

Kitty was right to ask if there were going to be hard feelings. He was afraid there _would _be, and part of him wasn't certain if he'd be able to hold back if his frustration got the better of him.

In his mind he had so many things he _wanted _to say to her.

_Do you know what the fuck you put me through?_

_ Do you have any kind of idea the trouble you've caused?_

_ Do you know what you've made me become?_

He pushed the thoughts aside, he couldn't ask her any of those things. He'd have to be patient, just like the Professor had asked of everyone else. Patient and tactful, he wasn't going to be able to confront her, regardless if _he _needed closure. Rogue wasn't going to be ready to confronted like that, he had _no _idea what kind of condition she was going to be in but he was certain it wouldn't be the kind of condition that would be prepared for that kind of an emotional ambush.

_Fuck,_ he thought as he stood up and kicked the edge of the bed stubbornly, thankful his steel-toe-capped boot protected him from stubbing his toe. _I've been fine for months, I hear she's coming back and suddenly I can't get my head clear again._

It occurred to him that perhaps he _should _just leave the institute and the X-Men. He was about ready to be on his own again, prepared to survive alone if it came right down to it. His powers hadn't returned to even a fraction of their potential, but he had his health again, his agility and his stamina. He supposed he could survive out on his own again now if he had to.

If he stayed, it was only going to get worse. He wasn't sure he could be like Kitty and Piotr, sitting there at dinner tables pretending like neither existed. That wasn't how he wanted things to be. He _wanted_ to be comfortable in the place he now called home, he didn't want to feel like he was sitting constantly on tenterhooks.

He already felt on edge and he hadn't even _seen _Rogue yet. How bad was it going to get when she eventually made it back?

_Just fake it. Fake it and see what happens, if it gets worse, then you can go but try to stick it out for now. You didn't put in these months with the X-Men just to let Rogue scare you out of town._

He went back to trying to work, he had to change the bedding, which was difficult as it always brought back visions of the dreams he'd been having spent with Rogue here trying to get off. _This is where it started,_ he thought unhappily. _This is where I started having this whole impotency thing...I couldn't get it up...we ended up lying there in the bed cuddlin' like somethin' from a lame chickflick...Jesus, that was, what? Nine months ago? _

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and a lifetime that he couldn't even connect to. He pushed aside the thoughts and changed the sheets as quickly as he could, he vacuumed then scrubbed the bathroom as quickly as he could and left the room silently after making a quick check he'd hit all the usual points and hadn't missed anything.

The shift had finally ended. As he went to clock out, Ron Vesticle, his boss, stared at him from beyond the reception, his chubby face red and sweaty from the thick Bayville summer.

"Another day another dollar, am I right?" said Ron casually, he leaned against the counter.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Remy mumbled tiredly.

"You look a little blue. Something eating you, MacFayden?"

Remy inwardly winced, he was still keeping up that lie, Jeremy MacFayden, one of his aliases. He didn't even have the social security card any more and he hoped he was never asked for it. It didn't seem to matter who he was, as far as he was aware Ron hadn't actually _declared _he had hired him which was why he was being paid directly in cash. Remy could only be thankful for that as he didn't have a bank account any more.

"I'm fine," Remy grumbled, "just tired."

"Tired?" scoffed Ron, "strippers keepin' you up late?"

"I spent the night at an ex-girlfriend's house last night, we had a one-off, just, you know, for old time's sake," Remy lied, not sure _why _he kept coming up with these stories other than for some reason it seemed to entertain Ron. "She likes to go at it for hours..."

"I wish I had _that _kind of stamina," said Ron wistfully, "not since I was your age have I had a night like that."

"Maybe you should think about viagra," Remy responded as he picked his jacket up from the office where he'd left it and pulled it on, checking for the keys to Jean's car which he'd borrowed. His Harley was in pieces in the mansion's garage and it was most likely going to be there for some time until he got the parts he needed to fix it. Everyone had tried offering him money towards the parts he couldn't afford, even _Scott _(who normally disliked him had offered him a few bucks towards the part, but Remy had felt this might be more to do with Jean's complaining about her car being used frequently rather than any gesture of good will being involved).

_Gonna do this on my own steam, get on my _own _two feet, I need to do this. Gotta prove I don't need to be a parasite when it comes to money and stuff,_ Remy told himself. _I'll just keep borrowin' cars, payin' for whatever gas I use until I can afford those parts. It's better than takin' handouts._

"So what you got planned for the weekend?" asked Ron, he flicked idly through a small pamphlet about Bayville tourist attractions that was sitting on the counter.

"Bed," Remy replied. It was all he had in mind, really. Bed, sleep, laze watching television in the cool darkness of his room with the fan on full blast and his door shut to everyone, especially Rogue.

"With _whom_ exactly though," Ron smirked.

Remy looked away, feeling miserable about the fact that he wasn't sure if he'd ever share a bed with _any one_ again. "Maybe I'll hit up a fuck buddy or two in town, I don't know yet. Maybe both at the same time," he lied. _I lie too fucking easily. Need to stop it before I get facts all fucked up and end up with my foot in my mouth._

"I hate you," sighed Ron, "I'll be spending this weekend taking my ten year old daughter to see Miley Cyrus in Chicago..."

Forcing a smirk, Remy looked towards his boss, "that girl is an exhibitionist, at least you can gather some material for the spank bank if nothing else."

"Yeah, I don't exactly want to stand there gathering material for the spank bank while my ten year old learns to twerk."

"Don't blame you, and I definitely don't envy you," Remy waved and took off outside.

The midday sun was blazing, and although he'd put his jacket on thinking he'd need it, Remy had to take it off before he even got into Jean's little blue Nissan which felt like an oven. He leaned back in the hot seat and rolled down the windows, wondering why he'd decided to borrow Jean's car today instead of Scott's convertible; it'd have been far cooler.

_You don't steal Scott's car because Scott is a miserable fuck and bitches whenever you do,_ he reminded himself.

He drove along the main street in the heavy midday traffic, it was always like this in the summer, especially with so many teens with cars, there was always someone blocking the road to stop and text someone or call someone. He wasn't in a hurry to get home though, he wasn't sure _when _Rogue was going to be there, but he didn't really want to make an effort to be present for her arrival.

_Best I can do is just try to hold off and stay out for a bit, enjoy the day, try to relax, try to get my mind off of Rogue right now._

Of course, trying to relax when you barely had thirty dollars in your wallet wasn't as easy at it sounded. He still had two weeks until pay day, he had to try and make that money last. He doubted it would when he generally spent around ten dollars a day alone on coffee and snacks.

He parked the car down the street and walked to Bayville park, he spent a little while wandering around in the sunshine, letting the heat seep into his bare arms and warm his t-shirt. He stood by the pond for a while and watched the ducks and swans gracefully skimming by.

Although he didn't want to spend money, he grabbed a cup of coffee from the kiosk there in the park; it tasted foul and he wished he'd opted for a frozen drink instead. Sitting there on a park bench drinking scalding hot bitter coffee that in his opinion tasted like motor oil and urine (not that he'd tasted either to compare, of course), left him with a strange sense of other things he'd forgotten. The bench was familiar, the view of graffiti on the public toilet building was familiar. He could remember doing so once on a cool damp evening.

_Why do I remember that? What was I doin' here in the first place? _

He thought it odd, sitting around in the park wasn't the usual kind of behaviour he participated in. Wandering around perhaps, yes, but not sitting there.

Remy turned to see who had sat beside him a moment earlier; for one brief second it was _Rogue _sitting there. He had to look twice, he'd been mistaken. It was an old woman sitting there, frail looking and tired, her shaky warped old hand holding onto a zimmer frame.

"Are you all right, my darling?" she asked, her voice quivered; Remy wondered if she may have something like Parkinsons, the trembling was quite apparent even in her voice.

"Oh, I'm fine," he forced a smile to the stranger.

"You look a little sad."

_Second person to think that today,_ Remy realised. _Damn, I need to retrain myself to wear my poker face. Can't have everyone at home thinkin' I'm a fuckin' pussy just 'cause Rogue is comin' back._

_"_I'm fine," he assured, keeping the smile up, trying to maintain the lie.

"Good looking young boy like you shouldn't be so down in the mouth," she gently admitted.

Remy examined her, there was a strange sudden expression on her face that disturbed him. "Are _you _okay?"

"I'm sorry...who are you?" the woman looked at him blankly, he winced. Clearly she was missing some marbles.

_Senile maybe,_ he realised. _Why is she out here on her own? She doesn't really look strong enough to be out on her own like this._

"Just a guy on a bench..." he replied calmly.

The old woman stood up carefully, body trembling with the effort, he saw the pain in her face as she held onto the zimmer frame and managed to finally stand up right. "Nice looking boy like you shouldn't be sitting alone in parks talking to strange old women like me," she gave a little chuckle, "you should be here with your girlfriend..."

Remy raised an eyebrow, "I don't have a girlfriend..."

"Where's Mary?" the old woman asked suddenly, her eyes frightened, her lips quivering, she looked all around her, utter confusion painting her face.

"Who's Mary?"

"How did I get here?" she asked, trembling.

"I think you walked," Remy gestured to her zimmer, he stood up slowly, "Is there somewhere you're supposed to be?"

"I don't know..." she looked around her with suddenly quite frightened eyes. "I was with Mary..."

"Where do you live?" Remy asked, trying to make sense of this entire situation. It wasn't his responsibility technically he supposed, but wasn't his duty as a good civilian to try and reassure her, to help her figure out where it was she'd come from or help her find who she had been with?

"I..." she frowned as if trying to remember.

_I think this is dementia, _Remy worried. _What's the protocol? Do I call the police or...social services? _

"Where's Mary?" asked the woman, her large grey blue eyes glassy and worried.

"Did she come here with you?"

"I don't know...I don't remember..."

"Okay, uhm..." Remy examined her for a moment trying to make sense of this situation. She had no coat, no jacket, she was wearing house slippers, that was significant, in his opinion someone of her age who come out with bare arms and house slippers in this blazing heat hadn't planned on being outside. No cardigan or sweater, no purse, or sunhat. She wasn't prepared to be out in a blistering day like this.

_Think she just wandered off,_ Remy pondered. "Hey, there's a little kiosk over there, lets get you a cool drink with some ice," he offered. "Don't worry, we'll figure out where you're supposed to be..."

"You'll find Mary?"

"I'll try," he promised.

Remy did as he promised and got her a cold drink, and tried to make her drink as much as she could manage; he had a little knowledge about dehydration and how it could cause memory lapses and confusion in much older people. Part of him hoped the drink would help her but after an hour and thirty minutes of sitting in the shade on the bench beneath the canopy of trees, she still wasn't any clearer about where she'd come from or where she was supposed to be.

He let her sit for a little while alone there on the bench, keeping an eye from her from afar as he asked various people wandering around the park if they knew of a Mary or if they may have seen the old woman with anyone. No one seemed to know anything, no one seemed to even _care. _It occurred to him no one these days would notice anything anyone did, they were too busy looking at their phones and tablets to pay attention to what happened around them.

A little more time spent with the old woman revealed very little, not the woman's name, not even her age or what street she lived on, it was beginning to become extremely frustrating and worrying. What was he supposed to do with her? He wasn't sure calling the Bayville police would be helpful, and he didn't want to have any involvement where the police were concerned anyway; too many things he was guilty of in this town to risk something like that.

It wasn't until he spied a small stamp on the frame of her zimmer that he realised that she was a resident at the Acorn street Retirement home which wasn't all that far from the park. He loaded her into Jean's car after a lot of work calming her down; being forced to get into the car put her into a state of panic as she assumed she was being kidnapped (and then molested as he had to put the seatbelt onto her). Remy was surprised that not a single person even bothered to bat an eyelid or come to see if the woman _was _being accosted right there. In the car, as he drove to the retirement home, he listened to her shakily making promises that if he didn't hurt her she'd find money or some way to pay him, she'd begged him to let her go, wouldn't take his word for it that he was only taking her where he was sure she belonged.

He was glad she was frail, she'd made a grab for the steering wheel at one point while he was turning a corner and if she'd been stronger he was sure they'd have crashed into a parked BMW as she pulled the wheel in her direction. After the drive - which had felt _much _longer than he'd thought it would be - he drove up Acorn Street, finding the Retirement Home exactly at the address that had been stamped on the cane.

"Is this where you were?" Remy asked as he parked in the lot outside the building, he saw the old woman staring at the building, trying to make sense of whether this was her home or not. He thought he saw a flicker of recognition for just a brief second, but it was gone again. She was still frightened.

The old woman was unwilling to leave the car again, afraid he may be taking her into the building to murder her and take her money (of which as far as he could tell, she had none seeing as how she had no purse with her to speak of). After unloading her zimmer from the car, he opened the door and somehow managed to lead her gently out, coaxing her with his gentlest voice, promises she'd be okay, he was only helping. He supposed he couldn't blame her for distrusting him.

"What the hell-?"

He turned to see a burly black security guard dashing down the wheelchair ramp, his sweater far too thick for weather like this, his large head pouring sweat so that he looked shiny and hot.

Remy blinked, the guy looked _furious _with him, as if he were trying to accost the poor old woman rather than _help _her.

"I found this lady at the park on her own..." Remy tried to explain.

"Just take your goddamn hands off her!" the guard warned.

A young woman in a nurses uniform came bounding out of the glass doors and rushing down the ramp in chunky Skecher sneakers which seemed almost inappropriate and absurd to be wearing with such a uniform. Somehow Remy had expected white clogs. "Rose!" she cried out.

Remy held onto the old woman's arm, "is that your name?" he asked of her.

"Yes..." she answered, for a moment almost conflicted if it was. It had been the first time he'd managed to determine her name since they'd met.

_It's a sin, to be like that, not knowin' who you are,_ Remy thought feeling strangely sympathetic as he led Rose and her zimmer towards the nurse.

"We've been looking all over for you," the young redhead admonished, she put her hand on Rose's arm, "you know you're not meant to be wandering off...where were you?!"

Rose looked between the nurse and Remy, her mouth moving but she seemed unable to speak, she'd already forgotten how she'd gotten here.

"Found her in the park," Remy answered for her, "sittin' on a bench on her lonesome there in her slippers with her zimmer..."

"She must have wandered off."

"Must have?" Remy gazed at the large security guard who was standing close by looking miffed, "where was he when she wandered out the front door?"

The guard went to answer, the nurse spun around and looked at him, "good question. Where _were _you?"

"I had to go to the bathroom...I get _two _bathroom breaks a day, you know that."

"You should have locked the front doors until you came back," Remy muttered. He supposed though it wasn't his place to tell other people how to do their jobs. "You know what could have happened to her? No one pays attention to anythin' driving these days, she could have been hit by a car...or could have been mugged...anything could have happened!" he spat.

f this woman had been his grandmother, he'd have been incensed at the carelessness that had been shown here today

The red-headed nurse tucked a lock of her thick curly hair behind her right ear, her face turning hot red, "this place is so understaffed...I turned my back for a second and she was gone. The girl who does the laundry said she saw Rose going back to her bedroom; we thought she was somewhere on the grounds...it wasn't until about twenty minutes ago we realised she was gone..."

"Well...she's back now," Remy frowned a little, "But you gotta be more careful..."

"I'm sorry...was she any trouble?"

Remy stared down at her. She'd nearly made him crash Jean's car, she'd scratched his arm during the struggle to get her into the car and she'd cost him three dollars for a lemonade. Yes, she'd been trouble, but it wasn't the woman's fault, was it? He decided not to complain. "Only that she couldn't tell me where she was from or who she was. Had to figure that out."

"Dillon...when did you get here?" Rose asked quite suddenly of Remy, tilting her head. "Is school over already? Does your mother know you're here?"

Remy raised an eyebrow at her, and looked to the nurse for an explanation.

The nurse winced, "Rose, lets get you inside, it's so hot out here, it's not good to spend too much time in the sun at your age."

Not sure why, Remy felt compelled to follow and help Rose up the ramp, her walking was so painfully slow that it took far longer than it had to get her from the park to the car. She was getting very tired, slowing down more and more.

One of the other nurses came to help Rose to her room, Remy stood in the reception area as the redhead nurse talked to her colleague for a moment before sending the girl off with the poor old woman.

The redhead nurse returned to Remy, she rubbed at the corner of one of her tired brown eyes, "I'm so sorry about this..."

Remy wasn't sure why he accepted the situation and remarked, "it's okay...really."

"It's not...it's unacceptable...I'm truly sorry."

"Why'd she call me Dillon?" Remy asked, changing the subject as he stood with his hand against the reception desk.

"Dillon was Rose's grandson...he passed away three years ago. Her son, his wife and their son Dillon were in a building that collapsed under a mutant attack in Michigan. They were her _only _family...and when they died, she got kicked out of Parkview retirement village because there was no one to foot the bill for her care...so...they sent here here..."

"Jesus..." Remy frowned, "No wonder the woman is batty."

The nurse gave a nervous laugh, "it's understandable."

"She kept asking for Mary..."

"Mary was the nurse who used to take care of her before I came here last year...Mary died last year of cancer."

"I see..."

"She still thinks Mary is alive...that Mary still works here," explained the nurse, "She has Alzheimers, it's in the early stages...but it's not going to get any better..."

Remy supposed he shouldn't feel so bitter and disappointed about his own life when this poor woman's mind was going to degrade to forgetting everything she'd ever known. He knew what Alzheimers could do, he'd read about it, seen documentaries about it and it didn't end with cures or happy stories.

"Would it sound bad if I said sometimes I'm glad she has it?"

His stomach felt a little tight, it sounded so wrong if heard out of context he supposed, but he couldn't deny he understood exactly _why _the nurse would think something like that.

"Most of the time she can't remember her family...can't remember that they died..." the redhead explained. "She goes through most of her days none the wiser."

Remy rubbed the back of his neck, "must be...pretty awful..." he admitted, "I...I was in a coma up until about five or six months ago...woke up with no memories of how I got there or...about a years worth of stuff I'd done was just gone..." he confessed, "used to complain about it. Guess my problem was _nothin'_ compared to this..."

The nurse nodded sympathetically, "I really appreciate that you brought her here instead of taking her to the police...I would have lost my job over this if it were reported. I was in charge...I would have been found negligent..."

"Were you?"

"Like I said, we're understaffed," her freckled face went pink once again, "three nurses to deal with twenty-two residents. It might sound like enough but...some residents are violent, some are incredibly ill and very frail, and some are like Rose...there's too much work and not enough time or people to do it all..."

Remy looked at her, "this place is state run?" he thought it was obvious, since the nurse had just explained the poor woman had been punted from a much better retirement home and sent here because of costs.

"Yes," said the nurse, "so funding is limited. We've _asked _for more staff but...well...when it comes to funding, it's a question of do the residents _eat _or do they get staff to look after them?""

"Will...Rose be all right?" Remy asked worriedly.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, she has her days. But you shouldn't worry..."

_Shouldn't worry? Old woman wanders off because there ain't enough people to watch out for her and it's nothing to worry about? _

He supposed the nurse was right though, it wasn't his place to worry. She was nothing to him, just a stranger. Why did he feel so affected by it though?

He paused, looking down the hall, an old man stepped right into the middle of the hallway, he was wearing absolutely no clothes at all (other than a pair of old plaid slippers), backside sagging towards the floor. _That's what I've got to look forward to in my old age...if I ever reach it, _Remy mused darkly.

"Mr. Dixon!" gasped the redhead.

"Looks more like Mr. Dicks-Out..." Remy remarked feeling slightly lighter than he had a few seconds before.

"I'm sorry...I really have to go..." the pretty nurse apologised, gesturing to the old exhibitionist, "and...you can't be here without a visitors pass...you'll need to go now."

"Would...it be all right if I came back some time, made sure old Rose is all right?" Remy asked carefully, "I mean...would it be _allowed?"_

"You don't even know her," the redhead blinked.

"I know...but...seems like she got no one..." he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck, "and that's a damn shame..."

_Besides, I want to be sure that after this she's bein' looked after properly,_ he thought. _Least that way I'll rest easy._

"I..." she drew her breath, "I can put your name down on the visitors list..." the Nurse moved quickly to the reception and pulled out a book, her eyes glancing down the hall at Mr. Dixon who was weakly dancing a jig with everything hanging out. Other than the fact he was naked and dancing, he seemed to be all right for the moment. He even seemed to be enjoying himself. "What is it?"

"Remy LeBeau," Remy replied; he was somehow surprised that for once instinct hadn't caused him to immediately give a false name. He supposed he was too distracted watching Mr. Dixon doing the hokey-cokey in nothing but his slippers and his birthday suit. He hadn't felt like laughing so hard in his life; the urge to laugh was so strong that he had to purse his lips and look away before it burst out of him.

"Okay, you're down," said the nurse, "I'm Nurse Renz by the way...ask for me when you get here if you can't get past the reception, the receptionist is a bit cranky if new visitors come around...we've had some people on community service lately, a few things went missing from the people here so she likes to check with the nurses to be sure that people are who they say they are..."

"Understandable," Remy nodded, "I'll maybe stop by some time after work."

The pretty nurse gave a tiny smile and said, "I'm sure Rose would like that."

Remy watched as she disappeared off to look after the old nudist, he quickly exited the building (under the watch of the displeased looking security guard) and sat on the steps by the ramp and laughed hysterically until his belly hurt and the tension he'd been feeling all day finally began to leave him.

* * *

**End of Part Two**

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first part and added it to their favourites so soon after it was put out! I'm glad everyone is excited about the new story and is looking forward to seeing progress. Hopefully you all enjoyed seeing a little progress from Rogue here (and Remy's attempt at being a good person, lol). I do realise it wouldn't be as easy for Remy to just wangle the right to be registered as a visitor at the home, and I also am aware that Rogue's time away was rather short, but hey-ho. I'm sure a few are looking forward to seeing Remy and Rogue's first interaction with each other, lol. More to come probably in about a week depending on how much I can get written (part eight was just finished, but I like to stay at least five to six parts ahead of what I post).


	3. Part 3

**Slight Return**

**Part Three**

* * *

Remy didn't get home until well after five pm. He went to the Bayville Beanbox for a frappucino and a slice of citrine tart, feeling slightly down in the mouth about the things he'd seen at the Acorn Street Retirement Home; regardless of how delicious his drink and his tart was, it did nothing to improve his mood. For a while he drove around in Jean's car with the windows down, taking all the scenic routes around town, just to clear his head and try to lighten himself up a little before returning home. Returning home feeling down in the dumps was not an option, the others would sense it. They _always _sensed weakness and tried to interfere.

The entire situation with Rose had left him feeling incredibly sad. The appearance of Mr. Dixon had only cheered him up for a while before it left him wondering if that's how he really was going to end up, in some poor state run facility for the elderly, dancing with his penis hanging out and his balding head slicked with boot polish to hide the thinning hair. Or maybe like Rose...wandering off, not knowing who he was or where he was or how he'd gotten there.

_I most likely ain't gonna make it to fifty, _Remy reasoned. _Accidents happen in the field, only a matter of time before I get myself killed. If I make it to _thirty_ without dyin' it'll be a miracle most likely, the way I get into trouble. Maybe that'd be for the best...to die a spectacular and honourable death in the field would be a hundred times better than dying at the hands of negligent staff or a government who just don't care._

When he'd had enough time to brood about the situation and he was confident enough he'd pushed the slightly depressing thoughts to the back of his mind, he finally returned home to the mansion. He parked Jean's car in the garage and hung the keys back on the hook on the wall by the door; his eyes caught sight of his Harley Davidson, it was still a sad sight to see all in pieces...like the dismembered limbs of an innocent who had died long before her time. The wheels had been removed, they were in bad need of replacing. Everything about the bike had started falling apart and failing not long after Rogue had left for Muir Island. He'd continued using it, promising he'd get it fixed, until eventually it had just stopped working altogether.

Logan had given him his word he'd fix the main problems with it and Hank would customize it for him later (some special parts were on back order apparently, Remy wasn't sure what the cost of those was were going to be but he felt it was likely to be obscene).

_Poor crotchrocket,_ Remy patted the handlebars of the bike. He missed the feeling of riding it in the hot sun, and the freedom of having his own vehicle. He hated borrowing cars, but right now, he had little choice, it was too far to walk to town and the regular bus service to town didn't even run until six am; no good for work.

The kitchen was absent of any people _nor _smells. Usually by five pm, the kitchen would be full of the smells of food (delicious or otherwise depending on who was cooking) and there'd be at least someone hanging around in there boiling pasta or cutting potatoes. Nothing whatsoever to indicate anything was for dinner. Did that mean takeout?

_Hope so...dinner has been diabolical lately,_ he thought. The hope of takeout cheered him up a little, all three of the regular places that the institute ordered food from provided great meals. He was almost looking forward to dinner now.

Remy moved to get a bottle of water from the fridge, his eyes swaying towards the large kitchen window; the blinds had been pulled up to let the sun fully spill in and light the large duck-egg blue room up. Outside he saw some of the younger students running around with their bathing suits on. Looked like everyone was outside this evening.

He wasn't sure he wanted to join them right now, but the inside of the mansion was stifling in the summer. The Professor didn't believe in leaving windows open all the time in case someone or something should get in, and so ventilation was sometimes a problem.

With a sigh, pressing the ice cold bottle to his sweaty neck, he left via the back door and moved towards the gardens. The smell of smoke hit him; charred meat, charcoal and that chemical smell of lighter fluid.

There were the X-Men, near the barbecue, all clustered together, talking, blocking the view of what was for dinner. Remy wasn't sure why they were all clustered together excitedly, laughing, talking loudly. Something was going on, he just couldn't see _what _exactly.

And then he caught sight of her.

Rogue.

Rogue had her arms wrapped around Hank McCoy's broad waist, her face pressed against the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. Remy stood, his body seemed to run cold all of a sudden and grow rigid with tension, he nearly dropped the bottle from his fingertips and just barely caught it as he watched Rogue hugging with the others; she'd _just returned._

It wasn't so much just her return that had left Remy feeling cold and uneasy. He'd been prepared for that feeling all day, he'd known eventually he _would _see her whether he wanted to or not. But it wasn't just the return that made his chest feel rather tight, his lungs void of air and his stomach flip.

It was how she _looked_.

The girl who had been a stick thin near-anorexic wreck only four months ago was no _longer_ a stick thin near-anorexic wreck. In fact, she looked far better than she ever had before. Her cheeks had begun to fill out again, her jaw softening, her eyes no longer seeming to bug out of their sockets with that haunted expression. Her legs no longer looked like matchsticks dangling from an oversized t-shirt.

She was wearing a short sleeved violet coloured t-shirt with a band logo on it, some kind of thick mesh body-stocking beneath. A leather skirt hung just slightly high enough to be interesting but low enough to be modest. Jewellery sparkled in the sunlight, dangling from her throat and her wrists. It was almost as if the past nine months had not happened...

He took a breath, bottle dangling from his strangely weak fingers. Remy just simply couldn't believe it...she looked so...so...

_So healthy...she looks so healthy...and...she's hugging everyone...she's so...at ease, as if...as if she's more secure, as if she ain't afraid of hurtin' people._

Remy tried to still his nerves, still the anxiety and the bad feelings that begun to arise. She might look like the old Rogue, but she was still the Rogue who had tried to accuse him of ruining her life. It didn't matter how good she looked, it didn't matter how much _better _she seemed at first glance. Things weren't always _that _simple.

Rogue had just finished hugging Kurt, he heard her loudly complimenting how great he looked, how he was taller, more muscular, how _grown up_ he seemed to have become in just a few short months. Remy could see how pleased Kurt was, not just about the compliments, but how Rogue seemed to be. He could see _everyone _was smiling. Everyone seemed relieved and happy.

_They've all been expectin' her to come back as she was...course they're relieved,_ Remy told himself. He didn't want to admit to himself that he was relieved too but he didn't want to trust that, he didn't want to put a bet down on those cards, the hand could change at any time, this could all be a bluff on Rogue's part.

He stood watching, feeling like an outsider looking through a window, at least until he realised Rogue had looked _beyond_ her friends to see him standing there on his own. He had half expected her to look away from him, half expected to be ignored after the way he'd rejected her and let her down, the way he'd suggested they part ways and remain parted.

But Rogue _wasn't _ignoring him; she was moving towards him slowly, step by step with her clunky platform boots crunching on the path, her hair – much longer than it had been and much better in his opinion – catching the a gentle breeze.

He looked across at her, drinking in the fullness of her face, the slight pink of her cheeks and her nose from sunburn. He couldn't pull his eyes away from hers, taking in how her eyes were lightly dusted with shimmering purple eyeshadow and lined with soft black smoky kohl; the colour of her eyes seemed to sparkle like two finely cut tourmaline gems. Her lips were pouted and painted with a dark pink gloss, something of a smile playing about her lips.

Remy _hated _that it was almost immediately he began aching beneath the belt. Rogue was more attractive than he'd ever remembered her being. Perhaps it was just he remembered how truly terrible she'd looked just before she'd left...or perhaps it was just that he was so _hard up_ lately that he found her that way.

Either way, his jeans were tightening pretty quickly. He was glad his t-shirt was slightly baggy, he hoped it would hide any embarrassment.

"Rogue..." he said, it came out in a surprised breath, almost a gasp; it revealed just how much he found what he saw so astonishing. He hated that he'd given _that _much of his reaction away, that he hadn't been able to restrain himself from sounding so shocked. In his head, he'd had his reaction practiced to be casual and breezy, not _this._

"Is it that bad?" she gave a strange nervous laugh, her eyes glimmering, she looked down at herself almost as if to check and re-examine herself in case nothing had changed, although he could tell she was fully aware of just how she _did _look.

"Oh, it's...it's terrible..." he shook his head, trying to play a long, "you look _awful..."_

_ No you don't...you look fantastic...Jesus, Scotland has been so good for you..._

Another nervous laugh from her, "you look terrible yourself, Remy LeBeau..." she moved forwards and wrapped her arms around him, her hug almost crushing him. The gesture was such a surprise, he hadn't expected it and he froze. He let his hands hang in mid air, the water bottle still dangling from the fingers of his left hand. Somehow, he just _couldn't _bring himself to hug her back.

It was uncomfortable; not just because of how things had ended with them, but because of the _massive_ problem growing between them; part of him was very afraid that if he even tried to hug her back instinctively he was going to push his hips towards hers and he tried to hunch forward a little to accommodate her hug and avoid this as much as he could. If she realised there was anything _wrong_, she said nothing to bring attention to the fact. He felt her hand rub his back a little which he found to be slightly reassuring; if she was rubbing his back it was a _friendly _hug. Perhaps that was a good sign, perhaps she was over him.

He hoped so. As mad as he was at her for how she'd revealed things to him, he _didn't _want her suffering with unrequited love hanging over her like a chandelier ready to drop and smash her head in.

Rogue stepped back, shaking her head, "Look at you, Remy...you got so tan...and...you're lookin' so buff and toned," she complimented with a strange laugh.

"You got a sunburn on your nose..." he gestured to her face with the bottom of the water bottle. _Yes, lets stand and point out obvious things and avoid talkin' about stuff that won't change anythin' any more. Small talk will set us free._

_ "_Yeah, the sun is kinda different in Scotland..." she confessed, "the entire one week you get of it in the summer, that is..."

He forced a smirk, "no bikini sunbathin', then?"

"Not unless you like sunbathin' in pourin' rain. You're more likely to get a moon burn than a sunburn over there, you know," Rogue admitted.

"Did...you like it over there?"

"Kind of," she gave a small shrug, "they made me eat haggis..."

"Jesus, isn't that some kind of violation of human rights or something?" Remy raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, it wasn't so bad," she grinned, "spicy...sort of mealy but...you know, it doesn't _taste _as gross as it sounds. It's actually quite nice once you get the taste for it. You'd probably like it."

"I wouldn't thank you for it, if you put it in front of me," he confessed casually, trying to keep the conversation going.

"That's a shame, 'cause Moira sent a big old bung of it over..."

"I ain't eatin' _anything_ that comes with the word 'bung' attached, Rogue," Remy glanced away from her, his body burning hot. He lowered his eyes to the gravel at his feet, he was having a hard time looking at her, it was too strange. "Anyway...I just came out to say hi..." he admitted, lying, as if he'd _known _she was there before he'd even come out. "Bit too hot for me out here..."

"Too hot? You're from the _south, _nothin' is too hot for you," Rogue raised an eyebrow, a smile playing around her lips. "You _love _the heat."

These smiles, _they _were unnerving. For all the time he'd spent with her since he'd awakened from the coma, she'd never smiled. Now, here she was smiling, acting as if everything were fine, as if nothing had happened. Smiles could be painted on as easily as that lipgloss, and he was very aware of it. He wasn't ready to trust the smiles.

"Yeah, but...I've had a long day and I'm tired...think I'm just gonna take a cool shower," he explained. _More like an ice cold one,_ he thought. "Chill out in the dark...pull the shades, turn on the fan..." he finished. _And try to get thoughts of pullin' myself off to thoughts of you out of my head. Ain't goin' down _that _road a second time. "_Besides...you got everyone dyin' to hear about your time over in the UK...you should go hang out, they've missed you so much."

Rogue glanced over her shoulder at her friends for just a moment, then back to him as she took in a deep breath. When she spoke he heard her feign confidence, he heard the traces of the anxiety in her voice although her eyes were somehow able to hide it _extremely _well. "Can we maybe talk...at some point?"

"Maybe...I...got a busy schedule, you know...work in the mornin'...danger room sessions, chores...I'm gonna start bein' trained on usin' the controls for the danger room, and for the equipment in the war room...I'm fully part of the team now," he studied her for reactions, studied for any change in her attitude, any signs of feeling rejected or hurt.

Rogue blinked, "You are?" she asked, seeming more surprised than spurned.

_Are there any other excuses I can use? I don't want to go down the same roads with her again, hash out stuff that I already hashed out. Just want to leave things as they are._

_ "_It's just..." Rogue began, "we have a few things we should talk about, you know? We should get some things out in the open..."

"Rogue...we..." he tried to be civil, polite. He _didn't _want to crush her after all the hard work she'd _clearly _done to get to this point. _We have nothin' to talk about, we just can't be together and there's no point tryin' to be friends if it's gonna hurt you,_ Remy thought. He'd been thinking of these things for months, thinking exactly how he was going to say it. Instead, it came out as something else entirely, "we...we're square, okay? There's nothin' more to talk about. It's...it's all done, okay? No worries."

Rogue tilted her head, looking at him. Suddenly _he _felt like the one being studied. Her green eyes were so intense, and strangely beautiful. They'd always been pretty but now...the way they looked, the way _she _looked. He couldn't explain why it was _now_ after all this time he found her so damn attractive.

But that was just a superficial. His attitude to it was just the usual shallow response he'd have to any attractive young woman, he didn't want to read too much into it. And he didn't want _her _to read too much into it either right now.

"You sure?" Rogue asked, "there's nothin' that you want to say or...?" she urged. It was almost as if she was giving him _permission _to bawl her out over everything she'd done. Like she expected it, like she wanted him to say all that he had to say.

_You nearly took my life, you accused me of ruinin' yours, you hurt me, you took away my memories, you took away my powers, you made me weak, you made me less of a man, _he blurted in his head. None of it would pass his lips.

He looked her straight in the eyes and raised his right hand towards her, "no point in dredgin' up unpleasantness, right? Lets...just leave it at that. Friends?"

She hesitated for a moment, she seemed to sense he was holding back, she was conflicted, not just about _this, _but about something else. He saw it in her eyes just briefly. She put her hand in his and shook it gently, and while still holding his right hand she leaned in and put her left arm around him and half hugged him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. "Friends," she replied softly.

Remy breathed in the smell of her hair; the intoxicating smell of coconut filled his senses, her hip unintentionally brushed against him in just the right way and he had to refrain from letting out any revealing moans. She was none the wiser as far as he could tell and he thanked god he'd been able to remain so composed despite it.

She moved away from him, and without any other words she went to rejoin her friends. Although they had seemed pleased to see _her_, Remy noted that they seemed strangely concerned about the exchange between Rogue and himself. They had all been watching them almost as if they had expected something to happen, he saw surprise on their faces that nothing had.

_Suppose they think it's gonna happen all over again,_ he realised as he turned and went inside.

Up in his attic room, the heat was more stifling than it had been in the rest of the mansion; he opened the dormer window to it's fullest, pulled the black blinds down and shut the slats, turned on the fan to it's fullest and he sat on the edge of his bed for a few moments trying to gather his thoughts. He was exhausted, he was hot, and he was aroused more than he'd been in a good while. And he was tempted. So _very _tempted to lay there and self-stimulate to thoughts of the _one girl _he had promised he would _never _think that way of again.

_No,_ he told himself sternly. _You're not gonna do that by default just 'cause she's the only one who right now seems to set you off,_ he headed towards his private bathroom; it was barely bigger than a walk in closet (in fact, it had originally been intended to _be _a walk in close) but it had it's own toilet, sink and shower stall and that was _all _he needed. He stripped down, tossed the clothes into the small hamper by the sink and stood in the shower, he turned the dial to the coldest temperature possible and set the pressure to it's highest. The cold water blasted him like icy pellets, he let out a little yelp at the initial shock and then a sigh of relief as soon the excitement and discomfort began to thankfully subside.

* * *

Rogue took a bite from her double cheeseburger, chewing slowly and savouring the taste of the fresh chillis and the barbecue seasoning that had gone into the mix that Hank had apparently spent hours marinading the meat in. Her eyes moved from friend to friend as they lingered by the pool, some sitting on loungers, some sitting with pants legs rolled up and their legs dipped in the cool water, some sitting on the grass nearby.

Everyone seemed to be in a good mood today, everyone was making the effort to be on good behaviour.

_Including Remy,_ she realised.

Yes, she had expected more of a reaction than she'd been met with. She had been preparing herself for _something _other than this civility of his. It had been hard to tell how he was feeling exactly, he'd been wearing thick sunglasses and she hadn't been able to see his eyes, but she'd felt the strangest sense of frustration. It was in the way he'd tensed up when she'd hugged him; she'd been so unsure of it at first that she'd given him a second hug just to be _sure, _and it had been there again. He wouldn't hug her back, his body had gone rigid.

He might _say _things were hunky dory, that he didn't care about things any more, that he just wanted to move on and be friends. But what he said, what he thought and most importantly what he felt were three different things entirely.

Seeing Remy there and being _able _to approach him, it had taken all the strength she could muster; she supposed if she hadn't taken her anti-anxiety medication two hours before she'd be feeling much more up tight than before. As of the moment, she felt very relaxed and calm. She was sure she'd suffer later, she'd be asking herself _why _she thought it was all right to approach him so quickly, to throw this on him without warning. She'd be asking herself why she hadn't waited a little first to get used to the idea of living in the same house with him again.

But that was something she'd deal with when the time came. Right now, nothing mattered. She felt glad to be home, that was all she cared about at this moment in time.

"I can't get over how much weight you've put on since you left."

Rogue turned to look at Kitty who was eyeing her with such big curious eyes. "Are you callin' me _fat_?" she teased.

Kitty stammered, "No, I didn't mean that, I mean-"

"Ah know, calm down, Ah'm just teasin'," Rogue gave a faint laugh, "Ah put nearly thirty-five pounds in the first few months – Ah was so idle over there, Ah just ate the crap the dieticians threw at me, and then ate and ate junk food and barely moved. But then Ah took off some weight when Ah started trainin' again. Ah'm somewhere between twenty and twenty-five pounds heavier than Ah was before Ah left, but it changes every day, so Ah can't be sure any more," she explained. "They say Ah need to gain another five to be totally where Ah was before. Ah'm not so sure..."

"Well...you look great," Kitty admitted, "I mean...wow, you look better than you ever did...seriously."

Rogue lowered her head, feeling her cheeks grow hot at the compliment. She wasn't _convinced_ of this, but everyone kept saying it. She was positive it was just their perception of _better_ than ever was different after they'd seen her look _worse_ than ever.

"So..." Kitty bit into her tofu dog, "what'd Remy say to you? Saw you talking to him."

Rogue shrugged, "He was...well...he was awkward."

"Yeah," Kitty chewed thoughtfully, "I thought he'd be."

"Is he _all right?" _Rogue asked quietly, "He seems...Ah don't know how to explain it...just...you know...different."

"Actually, he's been fine for months...he's almost back to his old self, you know, the sexist jokes, the quips; he goes into _every _mission like it's his last fight, he puts in all the effort he can, he trains insanely and he never misses work. He's...been doing really well...he seems, I don't know, like...happy, I guess."

"So it's _me, _then," Rogue realised somewhat unhappily.

Kitty winced, "I didn't say that."

"But you thought it," Rogue said perceptively.

"You can't _blame _him for being a little awkward, Rogue. His life was turned upside down, and he didn't understand why...we all kept it from him, and then you blurted it out in the _worst _way. But he's...you know...he's _Gambit,_ he just adapts to whatever and moves on, regardless of bad feelings."

"Ah hope so," Rogue sighed, "Ah don't _want _there to be bad feelings."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Ah tried to, but he doesn't want to chase the past, he just wants to move on, be friends..."

"And you're okay with that?"

"What choice do Ah have?" Rogue asked, trying not to feel hurt about that, "love of my life tells me he just wants to be friends...of course Ah'm not okay with that, but there isn't any choice here, Ah just have to live with it. It was my own fault, Ah've come to terms with it. He's right, Ah guess, it's time to move on, what's done is done."

"That's a good way of looking at it, I guess," Kitty supposed.

"The thing is...Ah expected more...resistance. Ah mean, Ah came here with it worked out what Ah wanted to say, Ah sat in the plane for hours rehearsin' in my head how Ah wanted to tell him Ah was sorry, that Ah take full responsibility for what happened to him...Ah expected him to want to _hear _it...but he just shot me down before Ah even had the chance to say any of it. My therapist said it was important that Ah clear the air with Remy, that Ah explain to him how things were or Ah might _never _get rid of the anxiety Ah feel when Ah'm near him. If we're gonna be livin' together like this, Ah need to get over it. Ah can't be on these pills the rest of my life...

"Pills solve nothing," Kitty agreed darkly, her expression somewhat sad.

"But...if he won't let me talk to him, if he _doesn't _want to talk about it, Ah can't force him to," Rogue explained, "Ah can't force him to listen either."

Kitty took another bite of her tofu dog, "Send him a letter," she said.

"Huh?" Rogue turned to look at her friend questioningly.

"Send him a letter," Kitty repeated, "Just tell him _everything _you've been feeling, everything you went through, how sorry you are. Tell him about the full responsibility you've taken, tell him about, I don't know, how it was nothing to do with him that started it, how nothing he done could have changed anything and nothing he did had any effects on your decision go through with that evolution."

Rogue considered this as she chewed her burger, she swallowed then commented, "that's not a bad idea, you know."

"Letters are way better when you need to confront someone," Kitty explained, "I mean...you say somethin' to someone, they don't listen, they get mad, they snap at you, say things they don't mean, but at least with a letter, you can sit there for _hours writing _and rewriting and making sure it makes sense, making sure you say all the _right _things and not the wrong ones. Then he can read and reread it...he won't have to rush it _before _he gives a response...that's if you ask him to respond."

"You think Ah _should?"_ Rogue asked, "Ah mean...you think Ah should ask him to write me a letter? That we should just discuss it all without bein' face to face and try to clear the air through letters?"

"If you ever expect to get stuff out of the way...maybe," Kitty shrugged, "I don't know. If not getting things cleared up is going to keep messing with your anxiety, then...something has to be done, right?"

"Ah guess so," Rogue chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"What are you two whispering about?"

Rogue and Kitty both glanced up to see Kurt Wagner approaching, a plate full of burgers in his hand. The boy ate and ate and never gained a single pound. Rogue wished she had that kind of metabolism. She was positive tomorrow after all she intended to eat today, she'd be three pounds heavier...not that anyone around here seemed to believe that would be a _bad _thing.

"About how great Piotr looks in a bathing suit," Rogue blurted; she supposed it was her own fault for glancing across at the pool and seeing Piotr standing at the edge, dripping wet after just having climbed out.

"No we weren't!" Kitty gasped, she nudged Rogue roughly with her elbow, Rogue had forgotten how up tight Kitty was when it came to Piotr. If she weren't so amused by the fast and embarrassed reaction, she might have felt guilty about it.

Kurt sighed and tilted his head, looking towards Piotr as if he were trying to determine what it was both girls might see in the large Russian. "He's just...well formed skin and bone, that's _all._ There's nothing special about him..."

"Oh come _on,_ there are men who work out for years to have a physique like that," Rogue admitted, "you're not just a _little _jealous?"

"Being wiry is better," said Kurt with a slight pout, "I can move faster than he can."

Rogue watched as Kitty gazed over to Piotr, her eyes softened a little, her cheeks were hot pink. Despite whatever reluctance the girl had to admit it, Rogue could _see _she was attracted to him. Remy had been right, the girl liked the boy. She couldn't imagine why their date hadn't worked out, nor why Kitty and Piotr had spent the entire barbecue avoiding each other like the plague.

Kitty realised she was being stared at, and she stood up quickly, "I'm going to get a drink."

"Get me one," Rogue requested.

"And me," said Kurt, taking over Kitty's seat on the bench.

Kitty took off in the direction of the refreshments table; stopping to talk to Bobby Drake who was there making ice cubes shaped like hearts to put into the drinks.

"How long has that been going on?" Rogue asked, she leaned near to Kurt to speak quietly to him.

"Huh?" asked Kurt, "what do you mean?"

"She won't look at Pete...and when she _does, _if anyone else notices she looks away. Every time they're in the same space she moves off like he stinks of B-O or something..." she wrinkled her nose.

"Maybe he does. All that muscle and sweat is bound to stink..." Kurt remarked a little jealously. Rogue supposed she had to feel for Kurt, his mutant form was permanent, and wasn't quite as _human _looking nor as typically acceptably handsome as Piotr Rasputin. It was normal to be jealous. She felt the same every time she looked at girls like Jean Grey...the perfect body, perfect hair, perfect smile. It was hard always being more inferior than someone else.

"Come on..." Rogue snorted, "What's going on? Has she said anything?"

"She doesn't say anything about him. They don't speak much, they work well in the Danger Room or out in the field...they're not friends, but they're...not _not _friends I guesss," Kurt shrugged.

Rogue finished her burger, "so...when's the next Danger Room session?"

"Sunday," Kurt said, "so...Day after tomorrow."

"Ah thought this _was _Sunday," Rogue frowned, "Jesus these time zones mess with my head. Back on the Island Ah always forgot if Ah was eight hours forward or eight hours behind...or was it six? It was so confusing..."

Kurt looked at her empty plate, then to his plate _stacked _with burgers. He placed one of his upon her plate and smirked, "eat up."

"Are you tryin' to get me _fat_?"

"Yes...then I'll be the best looking around here," Kurt teased.

"You look fine," Rogue smirked, "besides, you shouldn't worry about your appearance, you already have a girlfriend."

"Amanda thinks Piotr is the most _gorgeous _man she has ever seen. I heard her telling her best friend at school."

"Oh."

"She said there's nothing wrong with admiring...as long as that's it. I asked her what _she'd _think if I asked if it was all right to look at Jean's boobs..."

"And?"

"Uhm...I got smacked," Kurt pouted.

Rogue gave a light laugh, "never bring up boobs...it's usually askin' for trouble."

"Yeah...I learned that the hard way," Kurt explained.

Rogue picked up the new burger and took a bite, her appetite was in full form today, better than it had been in months. She was sure she'd pay for it later; she wondered if she was going to make herself feel sick.

"It's...good to see you like this," Kurt admitted quietly, he seemed strangely relieved.

She turned to look at him, chewing before asking, "like what?"

"Like _this," _he nodded towards her, "like...normal...like...there's hope..."

Rogue faintly smiled, she didn't feel much like there was _hope _for her_,_ but she supposed there was nothing wrong with living from day to day and pretending to live like there was. It seemed to make the others happy. It wasn't that she felt absolutely hope_less,_ it was just there was a lack of any kind of positive outlook for things to get much better. She expected now that things would be much the way they had been. Nothing much would change from now on, things would stay static.

Unless of course she decided to take Magneto up on his offer of going into his evolution machine for a _second _attempt at gaining control.

Months had gone by and she'd struggled to put the thoughts of it out of her mind. She was tempted for the cure-all but haunted by the 'what ifs'. Remy had said it himself, once bitten, twice shy. She'd already taken a risk and it had failed, why take another? She'd thought back that first time that things probably _couldn't _get much worse in her life, but she'd been wrong.

What if things could _still _get worse?

There was also the question...what if they could also get _better_?

She inwardly scolded herself for letting herself think of it. She'd been working hard at training and trying to deal with her depression the _right _way. Why undo it all just because of what Magneto thought had a good chance of helping her? If she took up that offer, what had she spent all the time and tears and stress on? All the self-evaluating and medications and therapy and self-acceptance? Would that mean it was all for nothing?

_It's too soon to think about it now. You're just out of woods, but the trees are still there. The field has to be clear before you can even contemplate thinkin' about Magneto and the evolution process again._

Rogue stared up towards the roof of the mansion, the dormer window that would lead to Remy's room was catching the reflection of the sun, and seemed to look like molten gold.

Kitty was right. She should write a letter. But perhaps she should give it a few days first and let the dust settle before she started kicking it up again.

_Give it time, there's no rush,_ she told herself. _You're going to need a few days to try and figure out exactly how to say the things you need to anyway._

But there were the things she _needed to say_ and the things she _wanted to say. _

And what she wanted to say were the words she never would be able to say again.

_I still love you._

* * *

**End of Part Three**

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, I was so tickled pink to see how many of you were waiting eagerly to see Rogue and Remy's first interaction, and well, here it is! How did it go? Did it go well or do you expect disaster? LOL. Only time will tell ;) I'm sure so many of you will be glad that Rogue looks as she did (or at least close to it). Hope you're all having a great week, can't wait to read your interpretations of this chapter ;)**

**Love you all :)**


	4. Part 4

**Slight Return**

**Part Four**

* * *

***** warning for some slight sexual content, don't get your hopes up though, lol *****

* * *

Remy LeBeau awoke a little past eleven am that next again day; he supposed he must have needed the sleep as a little past eight had been when he'd finally dropped off watching a DVD while lying in bed and he'd awakened in the thick warm darkness of his room that Saturday morning.

He rolled his neck, yawned and gazed around the dimly lit room; the television was still on, the blue screen glaring at him. He picked up his new phone (a cheap one he'd bought that was prepay until such times as he could afford to replace his iPhone) and checked the time.

_Jesus, I must have needed sleep,_ he mused as he brushed his hair out of his eyes and stretched his nude body out over the covers, thankful that the door was locked.

It had taken a _lot _of discussions – usually one sided – to finally have the Professor agree to the fact that he _needed _a door that locked. The Professor had put in place a policy about locked doors ever since Rogue's first suicide attempt. It hadn't been mid-June that finally the Professor had caved about the subject, and only because Amara – who had been sent up to find Remy since his communicator battery had run out of charge due to his negligence to _charge _the thing (an often occurrence) – had walked in on him playing with himself (another pointless attempt at getting an erection). After that moment, only students over eighteen who were trustworthy had been given the right to have their doors locked, and the keys _had _to be kept on their persons at all times and not be passed around.

He could still picture Amara's poor little face as she'd stood there blankly staring at him with his hand on himself. He'd have laughed if he wasn't so frustrated that he had nothing to show for all his tugging except for another flaccid disappointment. There'd been a time in his life where a pretty sixteen year old in his room would have _helped _with that problem. Not the case any more.

So now thanks to that incident, he had the freedom to sleep naked again, no more getting tangled up, no more pyjama pants riding up his calves, no more boxer short wedgies disturbing his slumber. It was much more comfortable. His _curfew_ however, still stood. Nine pm was the _latest_ he was allowed to come strolling home at. When he'd asked why _he _had to have a curfew at his age, he'd been informed his driving in on his bike any later would disturb the students...he doubted that, they made far more noise than his bike did.

Regardless of having showered the night before he was sweaty from the thick heat in the room and so, he had to shower once again, only this time, it would be more than just a quick blast with icy cold water, he'd take the time to actually wash his hair and scrub himself down properly.

He turned the pressure down a little from it's previous setting, and set the water to cool rather than it's coldest and he showered comfortably, taking his time without worry of using up the hot water (of which there always seemed to be a limited supply in this place) or preventing others from using the bathroom. That was another perk of having the attic room, he had time to just be on his own without wondering when he'd be rushed out so the next person could get in, especially in the mornings or after hectic Danger Room sessions, when Showers were like gold dust and _everyone _wanted one.

As was usual for his shower time, he attempted to arouse himself to the usual 'spank bank' material, but nothing worked. He supposed it was ironic that the one time he _hadn't _wanted any kind of arousal, he'd blasted it back to hell with cold water, and now that he wanted it, he couldn't get even remotely excited regardless of how wild his fantasies could get.

For a while, he stood in the bathroom nude, shaving, brushing his teeth and wincing every time his member touched the cold edge of the sink. He'd have put on a towel if it weren't for the fact that the discomfort of the cold porcelain against his skin reminded him at least the thing still had _some _feeling in it. That was something to be positive about.

After dressing into a pair of shorts (deciding to go topless with intent to head out to the garden for some sunbathing later), he headed down to the kitchen to see what might be left from the usual breakfast devastation that went on. Sometimes on Saturdays and Sundays Ororo would set aside things and put them in the microwave for him to be sure that he _did _get something to eat when he awoke or eventually made it to breakfast. This morning, the microwave was empty, today she'd forgotten to do so and he despaired. He hadn't eaten _anything _for dinner yesterday and now his stomach was growling.

He supposed an apple would do until lunch, which would most likely be in an hour or so. He stood for a moment, looking at the apple, wondering what he'd do once he finished it. He had intended to go out and lie in the sun, but it seemed like a rather lame way to spend an entire Saturday.

_Maybe I should go see that old lady...Rose...it's a Saturday, busy visitin' day probably for all the other old people there. But she got no one...seems a shame to let her be there on her own...nurses probably don't even got much time to talk to her with bein' understaffed. Yeah, maybe I'll do that..._

"Is that all you're gonna eat?"

Remy jumped, he hadn't heard _anyone _in the room and he glanced around at the sound of Rogue's voice; he finally spotted her, she was sitting on the kitchen counter, a bottle of Mountain Dew in her hands.

"Jesus, why you creepin' around?" he asked irritably.

"Ah wasn't, Ah've been sittin' here the whole time..."

"Oh," he cleared his throat, "should have said."

"What were you lookin' in the microwave for?" she asked curiously.

"Stormy sometimes puts a plate of food in there for me if I don't make it down in time for breakfast," Remy replied. "She forgot today..."

"You want me to make you somethin'?" she pushed herself from the counter.

"No...that's okay," he shook his head, "I got an apple...and I know you're afraid of breakin' the stove."

"Actually, Ah'm over that," Rogue admitted, she grabbed the frying pan down from the hook it hung upon, "bacon?"

Remy watched her, it all just seemed _too _good to be true. He just couldn't trust it, nothing was this easy. She was a picture of health, a picture of perfect _mental _health as far as he could see. But four or five months wasn't going to fix suicidal tendencies, severe depression and anxiety. It was only a matter of time before she revealed her true condition.

"Remy?"

"Hmm?" he blinked himself out of his reverie.

"You want _bacon_?"

"Uhm...sure..." he shrugged.

Rogue retrieved the bacon from the fridge and the box of eggs; Remy stood by the dining table, watching her carefully, looking for signs of weakness, trying to determine where he stood. It felt _awkward. _ He wasn't sure what to say to her any more.

She turned on the gas and stood there waiting for the pan to heat up, she drizzled in some oil, "so..." Rogue went looking for a knife to open the bacon packet, "how do you like it?"

He'd been too distracted watching her backside, she was wearing a pair of leggings which was an unfortunate thing for him as it clung to the curve of each cheek and revealed to him that she most definitely was wearing a thong. He grimaced, there was that stirring again.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it. Can't have, never will, forget it,_ he told himself.

"Remy?"

"Huh?"

"How do you _like it,_" she repeated a little louder this time.

_Hard...on the table...with a lot of screaming, no wait, what was it she was asking again? Jesus christ, I need to stop this...I haven't had thoughts like these in months..._

"Sorry," he shook his head a little at himself, "what was the question...?"

"Bacon, Remy...how do you like your bacon?"

_Jesus, she must think I'm a freak, she's asked me the same question three times now...and she's talkin' about bacon, and I'm thinking about fucking. I knew this was gonna be difficult, but I didn't think it'd be _this _difficult._

_ "Well?"_ Rogue asked, growing impatient.

"I...half expected you to already know," he confessed curiously. "Was waitin' to see if you'd just figure it out."

"Ah didn't retain _everythin', _Remy," she confessed, "so...you better let me know now, Ah don't want you thinkin' Ah'm a shitty cook 'cause Ah overdid it or undercooked it. So what'll it be? You want it crispy or almost raw?"

_Yeah...raw...raw sex...hard against the table...who gets to be top? Does it matter...for fucks _sake,_ I need another cold shower,_ he groaned at himself inwardly. He took a seat at the table and pushed his chair way under so that his stomach was pressed against the edge, he hoped it would be enough to hide the raging excitement pushing his shorts up like a tent pole. "Crispy," he responded, he took his eyes away from her backside as she went to cooking him breakfast.

_Jesus, my cheeks are burning. Am I blushing?_ He wondered, when Rogue wasn't looking he pressed the backs of his fingers to his face, they were blazing hot. _Nah, probably just the heat. God this is insane...why now? I can't make it work any other time, she comes back and suddenly my dick starts actin' like a fuckin' homin' missile lookin' for the nearest pussy to hit..._

He tried to focus on keeping himself calm, struggled to focus on things that were a turn off but nothing was working. After what seemed like an eternity, Rogue came to the table, putting down a plate in front of him, plenty of bacon and a couple of perfectly fried eggs. He wondered if it was only the sexual frustration that caused him to think those eggs looked like a pair of breasts. _If I push those pieces of bacon a little closer together, it'd kind of look like a pu-_

_ "_You've joined the team fully then?"

Remy was thankful for the question, for the distraction from his raging thoughts, "Yeah," he stuck his fork in the yolk of each egg quickly to make it look less like he thought it had initially.

"How are you findin' it out in the field?"

"Tirin'," he confessed, "You ever notice that nearly every time there's a mission, it _always _comes up late at night?"

Rogue gave a vague laugh, but didn't disagree with the observation.

"I'm fine on missions, _truly..." _he admitted, "But afterwards, Christ, it's like...I feel...wrecked. My bones ache, my muscles ache..."

"After-mission hangover," Rogue agreed.

Remy turned to look at her quickly. Had she just read his mind? How could she possibly _know_ he called it that? A strange odd sense of being violated hit him, he stared at her worriedly.

She missed this look entirely, she had picked up one of the newspapers from the pile on the table and had started going through it. She was doing _far _better at being casual and easy-going today than he felt he himself was.

"That's...that's what I've been callin' it," he confessed after a moment, "How did you-?"

"Ah used to call it that too," Rogue shrugged, "it always kind of feels that way for the first few months, but it gets easier. Every now and then there's a tough one and you feel like you've been run over by a giant bowling ball, but for the most part, it'll get easier, you'll barely notice it any more."

Remy quietly ate his breakfast and Rogue sat reading the paper, it felt eerily mundane and oddly perverted as he sat trying to devour the food ignoring what was going on in his pants. He was almost _sure _the troublesome tallywacker was pointing _right _at her.

_Stop that,_ he thought quietly to the offending member. _That is off limits. Why couldn't you get that worked up over the pretty redhead nurse with the big knockers, huh? Why do I even bother trying to talk to you, you don't have any fucking ears...just a fucking eye and apparently a mind of your fucking own..._

Rogue raised her eyes to him, "so, how's work at the motel?" she asked after a time.

"Still the same, shit smeared toilets and piss stained tiles. But I do less hours now. Five til midday. And I don't gotta do weekends either. Boss got his cousin's kid in for that."

"Your boss a fair guy?"

"Yeah. He's a good guy. His name kind of lets him down."

"His name?"

"Ron Vesticle."

Rogue snorted, "you're makin' that up."

"Wish I was. You know how hard it was keepin' a straight face when I applied for that job, he's standin' there wearin' a badge with 'Vesticle' starin' at me in all upper case letters."

She smiled, a genuine smile, eyes lighting up. It wasn't until this moment he had realised that she _wasn't _wearing makeup, her face looked pinker from yesterday's sun exposure, her lips the colour of a sweetheart rose, her lashes were stained dark with yesterday's mascara but she looked fresh, young and strangely pretty now that he thought about it.

Without even thinking about, he'd opened his mouth before he could stop himself. "You look good, Rogue..."

Her mouth dropped a little, as if she _hadn't _expected him to say this. He wasn't sure if she was just feigning this to be polite or if she really was surprised. He tried to read her, it was hard. She wore so many masks now, one might slip but there was another beneath. "Ah...do?" she asked, she gave a strange disbelieving laugh.

"You look...healthy..." he gestured to her cheeks.

"That's the sunburn," her cheeks turned slightly pinker.

"It's _everythin'..._" he confessed, "your eyes, your hair...the way you've filled out...you look so much better than you did..."

Her eyes dropped nervously to the table, finally a sign of her old self. Yes, this was the Rogue he _knew._

_ "_I...I gotta admit...the way you looked before...back months ago...it weren't nice to look at...was...a little worryin'."

She got up slowly, taking his empty plate to the sink to rinse it off. He watched her, so impressed without easily she handled things now, nothing breaking or bending, she didn't seem to have to concentrate any more. She'd adapted so very well, he felt strangely proud of how far she'd come. He wished he could say that to her but he thought it would sound condescending.

Remy turned his gaze from her backside again, wincing.

"You were worried?" she asked, he heard her struggle to sound casual and curious, but there was hope in there. He didn't want her to be hopeful.

"You know I was...it's hard seein' a _friend_ deteriorate."

He made sure to put emphasis on the word _friend,_ he hoped she'd understand, hope she'd be fine with that. That was all this was going to be. _It's fine to be sexually turned on by a female friend, I mean, it's happened before...you used to get it all the time when you went to high school, you had tons of friends who were girls who got you that way. It's not exactly abnormal. It's perfectly acceptable. Totally normal reaction._

It didn't _feel _normal though, it was intense, physical _yearning_, this wasn't just a random spontaneous reaction, it was powerful lust. What the hell was it about Rogue that turned it on like that? Even _before _she'd recovered, landing on top of her seemed to have kick-started whatever the issue was. Either way he still couldn't pinpoint it.

_Lingering memories, something in the back of my mind maybe, somewhere in the back of my head old Remy wants to get her against this table and hump her like a dog in heat..._

His body flushed hot at the thought of it, stomach tight in knots, groin throbbing demandingly. His breath was rising and falling quickly, he was struggling to try and maintain _any _type of control over this. His body was defiant and his mind was racing, his self-control and common sense were being being pushed aside by the ideas and desires that weren't ready to let go just yet.

_Stop it,_ he pleaded of his body and mind. _Just stop it...it's just the heat, that's all, just intense summer heat, it makes things like this worse. You can't think of her like this, you need to stop...for the love of god, STOP IT, REMY, STOP IT._

It was too late...he _couldn't _stop his mind from wandering to that one particular memory again, the one he watched like a spectator in his own porno flick. It was the way that she had both hands on the bottle of her Mountain Dew to unscrew the cap, the way she put it to her mouth and tipped her head back to take a long drink, unknowingly driving him wild. It reminded him too much of those things he'd been struggling to forget for months.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, it was building far too fast, he couldn't fight it; without his permission the feeling was rising, getting to the point of no return. _No no no no oh god..._

It overwhelmed him quickly, his body tightened, spasmed and strained as he tried to hold back from groaning out at the spontaneous climax. As he gripped the table hard, he felt the hot mess of his seed fill his underwearmuch to his absolute mortification; his eyes dropped back to where she sat and she was looking at him worriedly. Jesus, did she _know _he'd just came without so much as even _touching _himself? He had to control his breathing, tried to keep his heart still.

"Are you...alright?" Rogue asked, wide eyed at his behaviour.

He glanced towards the window right towards the sun, and it was perhaps just convenient that doing that _always _caused him to sneeze, just convenient that he remembered this right on cue. He rubbed his nose and blinked, "sorry...had to sneeze...bit photosensitive."

"Oh," Rogue seemed unconvinced, but at least she _didn't_ seem to fully comprehend what had happened. He thought that odd for a girl who had _probably_ witnessed him climax more than once.

_Gotta get up fast, Remy, before it starts soakin' in and comin' through the shorts. For the love of god, don't let her see this._

_ "_Shit," he muttered, "forgot to grab my book...was gonna go lie outside and read."

"Oh...what are you reading?" Rogue asked.

_Fuck, she wants to know the name of a book?! Jesus, why did I say book? Why didn't I say somethin' stupid like an Mp3 player or...or a fucking magazine? Why did I say a fucking book?!_

_ "_Just this new rule book thing for work, handbook or whatever you call it, boring shit, stuff I need to know, about what temperatures to wash what at, you know, the usual crap."

"Ohh..." she nodded.

"Thanks for breakfast," he forced a smile, and turned around _in _the chair quickly so that he didn't have to stand facing her and risk _showing _her what might have already begun to sink through the cotton of his shorts. As he got up he felt his legs were jelly like, as if all his energy had been spent in those ten seconds of complete ecstasy.

"No problem," Rogue went back to reading her paper, there was a slight tension in her voice, he wasn't sure what to read from it and right now he didn't have time to dwell on that. For the third time in twenty four hours, he was going to have to shower again.

* * *

"Ah think Remy might be on drugs," Rogue announced as she dropped onto the edge of her bed, glancing over at Kitty who was sitting on her own bed typing on her laptop.

Kitty raised he eyes from the screen, "Huh?"

"He's being weird, he's _not _normal...Ah'm tellin' you, he's on drugs," Rogue fretted, biting her lip, staring at her friend, looking for a response. Remy's behaviour in the kitchen had been staggeringly peculiar. She'd never seen him so nervous, so up tight, his shaking there at the table had been troubling, the way he'd rolled his eyes into the back of his head as if he were losing consciousness for just a second or two, the strange almost euphoric look on his handsome features.

It had to be drugs...he'd had to have taken _something. _

She'd sat there for almost half an hour in the kitchen trying to figure out what was going on, after weighing up that he may be ill, or just under stress, she'd decided that it _couldn't _be anything but drugs. That was when she'd decided she would share her concerns with Kitty.

Kitty would understand, Kitty _knew _first hand. If anyone would have advice or ideas on what to do now about this, it would be her.

"What are you talkin' about?" Kitty blinked.

"He's not right, Kitty..."

"He's _fine_, he's not been acting weird at all..."

"He is, Ah'm tellin' you..."

"Look, I'm not _trying _to be a bitch here," Kitty frowned, "But you haven't been here for months. I've seen him every day since the day you left and he's been _fine _all that time."

"He's acting weird, trust me."

"What kind of weird? What happened?"

"Okay...so...we're sittin' at the table talking...Ah make him breakfast, you know, gesture of good will and all that, tryin' to make up for how much Ah fucked up...he eats his breakfast, and then suddenly he gets this really weird look on his face...he's shakin' and all sort of...I don't know, flustered, and then he's..." Rogue tried to explain.

"He's _what?"_

_ "_Ah don't know...he had this weird tight look on his face like was...you know that look people get when they're about to pass out? It was like _that._"

Kitty sighed; she didn't seem to believe this. She gave a nervous laugh, she wasn't comfortable with the subject matter; Rogue understood why. The mention of drugs might be still _too _close to the bone for her. "Even if he _was _on drugs, where would he get them?"

"Ah don't know; he always finds contacts wherever he goes, you know that..." Rogue reminded, "and he works now, he could afford to buy them..."

"He doesn't make _that _much money," Kitty kept her voice low, "He's minimum wage, he can _barely_ keep five bucks in his wallet most months.

"Maybe that's where all his money is going..." Rogue suggested.

Kitty laughed uneasily, "Rogue, do you even know what pills cost these days?"

"No..." Rogue replied. It hadn't crossed her mind about availability or the affordability, only that Remy was acting strange and it _could _be drugs. After his binges just before she'd left, she'd begun to wonder if one day he _could _be tempted to turn to something harder to soothe the damage _she _had done to him. It had crossed her mind more than once when she'd spent all that time on Muir Island.

"My guy used to charge me a dollar per _milligram _for oxy," Kitty said in a whisper, "Stronger the pill, the more you pay. Some pills can cost you sixty, some can cost you a hundred, it just depends. I blew through about three thousand dollars in savings that my mom and dad had been giving me on oxy alone. One of the trays Remy took cost me nearly four hundred bucks."

Rogue gaped. She hadn't thought the cost would be _that _extreme. "Four hundred _bucks?! _Are you fucking _insane?!" _she almost yelled.

Kitty frowned, "sssh! You want Logan to hear?!" she hissed.

"Sorry..." Rogue lowered her voice, "But four hundred? Three thousand? That's...that's crazy..."

"I was _desperate. _I was struggling to cope..." Kitty reminded, "anyway that money was supposed to be for a car – but I got hooked and that was it. Three thousand bucks down my throat..." Kitty sighed.

"What did you tell your parents about the money? Did they find out it was gone?"

"Yeah, when they checked the bank account and saw nearly three grand had been withdrawn...I had to keep making stuff up. I told them I had to buy a new laptop and a phone...the numbers didn't add up so I made something about a second hand Vespa...they trust me, they didn't ask questions. God, if they ever found out..." Kitty trailed off, looking quite upset. "They'd be so disappointed at having a pill-popper for a daughter..."

"You're clean now though, right?"

"Yeah," Kitty nodded, "Haven't taken _anything _since the day Remy found me in the kitchen in the mess I was in...and I don't _ever _intend to go down that road again. Even if you guys _hadn't _helped me detox...I would have had to stop eventually..." she admitted sadly, "money was running low...and I wasn't about to resort to _stealing _or begging for money to just make myself feel better."

Rogue wondered how honest Kitty was about that. If the girl could lie about being on pills, could she lie about what she'd do to get them? Rogue supposed she shouldn't be so judgemental about it. How could she after she'd heard Kitty tell Remy that the sleeping issue and the need for the Oxycontin hadn't even come until after Rogue's second suicide attempt. She couldn't _judge _something she had a hand in, she still had some forgiving herself for that to do as well. She wondered now if perhaps along with writing a letter to Remy, perhaps she owed _Kitty _a letter too?

"Anyway...If _anyone _knows what it's like to be on pills...it's me, okay?" Kitty shrugged, breaking Rogue out of her dark thoughts, "Remy doesn't seem to be...far as I can tell."

"What if it's not pills?" Rogue asked, "what if he was on something else?"

_Wouldn't be the first time, _Rogue reminded herself. _He smoked weed once with Pietro out in the grounds behind the warehouse once...if he'd do that, who knows what else he'd do?_

Kitty's face suddenly became dark and guilty, she looked away, her expression deep as she thought about this. _Something _had started to bother her about the suggestion of it.

"What?"

"Doesn't matter," Kitty shrugged it off.

"What if it's cocaine?" Rogue suggested.

"What makes you think that?"

"He sneezed..."

"He probably has an allergy or somethin'," Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He said he was photosensitive...Ah mean, Ah guess he can be, Ah've seen him sneeze like that a few times...and vaguely Ah know it somewhere from his memories but...Ah don't think _that _was a sneeze."

"What'd you want me to do? You want me to try and suss him out, see if he _is _still using?"

"Wait, what do you mean is _still_ using?"

"Huh?"

"You said _still..."_

"Oh, did I?"

"Did...he take something before that I don't know about?" Rogue asked suspiciously.

Kitty gave a massive sigh, "Okay, _fine. _ The night you told him about what happened...well...I went to see him that night at Logan's apartment, and he was getting high on weed. But that's like...it."

"Oh," said Rogue. She wasn't sure why she wasn't remotely surprised. He'd been in something of a downward spiral that last few days before she'd left. Still, she was positive whatever had happened at the table, it wasn't to do with marijuana.

"Are you mad?"

"No," Rogue shook her head, "look, I can _deal _with him smoking a little weed, he's done it before...but...this wasn't weed. Trust me, I know him, he's not like that on weed."

"So...you really want me to just chase this up and check?"

_Jesus, now Ah have her snoopin' on him, used to be Ah had _him _snoopin' on her, _Rogue thought, realising the irony of it.

"Would you?" Rogue asked hopefully, "it's just...Ah'm worried...he seems to be doin' so well and Ah don't want him to fuck things up for himself if he _is _usin'. Ah don't want to chase it up myself or...you know...try to _pressure _him...he's actin' weird enough whenever Ah come near him as it is."

"Look, I'll keep an eye out for any weirdness and if I _see _anything myself, then I'll look and see if I can find anything. I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best and try to figure out if anything is going on."

Rogue smiled weakly, "thanks."

_Hope Ah'm wrong. _ _Four months is a long time and a lot can change in four months. It only took Kitty a few months to get hooked onto Oxycontin. Ah couldn't stand that to happen to him. Doesn't matter if he broke my heart or not, Ah can't let him fuck his life up just because of things Ah said and did._

"Ah think Ah'm gonna go watch TV in the rec room," Rogue decided, "too hot out there for me...besides, that's where Remy said _he _was gonna be out there and Ah think it's best if Ah keep my distance for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, that'd probably be for the best...give each other space," Kitty agreed. "That's probably all that's wrong with him, Rogue," she closed her laptop and moved it to her cabinet, she stood up and stretched, "he just needs his space to deal with you being back. Give it time, I'm sure things will be...you know...relatively back to normal."

"Ah hope so."

* * *

**End of Part Four**

* * *

**Thanks to all for the reviews, I'm so glad you're all enjoying the story and the developments so far (even though it's early days). I'm sure there'll be some interesting thoughts about this particular development with Remy at the breakfast table, lol. Poor guy. I can't imagine trying to explain that one off, lmao.**

**Hope you're all going to have a fantastic weekend! **


	5. Part 5

**Slight Return**

**Part Five**

* * *

The second shower of the day had been better than the first, at least his hot and bothered flesh felt much better now. Following his unexpected climax Remy had been feeling strangely tingly all over, and his skin had been so sensitive that even the water had made him feel uncomfortable at first. It had taken a good twenty minutes in the shower before the lingering sensitivity had finally worn off enough so he could scrub himself down.

And he _had _to scrub quite roughly. He felt horribly _dirty. _He hadn't done anything wrong, he hadn't even wanted to have those thoughts, but thinking them about Rogue had felt so terribly wrong that it left him feeling uncharacteristically fiendish and perverted, and not in the usual _good _way.

He stepped out of the shower and stood naked on the mat in his private bathroom, dripping wet, the steam from the hot shower (he'd decided to turn on the hot water to help burn away the feeling of shame) rising from his torso and disappearing into the air.

Sweeping away the fog from the mirror above the sink, he started at the watery distorted reflection of himself with his hair dripping wet over his eyes, his face pink from the heat of the shower. _You can't let that happen again,_ he told himself as he looked himself in the eye. _You have a responsibility to _yourself _to keep the fuck away from her, any kind of sexual attraction is forbidden. Bein' turned on like that won't make this easier on either of you. If you expect to get by livin' in the same house you gotta learn how to switch off completely._

It struck him that this could just be a one off incident, something that had occurred merely because of the time it had been since the last climax, just a build up, tension of her return and all the mixed feelings about the things they'd done together had just overwhelmed him, that was all it had to be.

_I'm _not _attracted to her...remember how she looked naked? What was beautiful about that? She looked like a walking skeleton,_ he reminded himself as he picked up the hand towel from the rail and dried his hair with it. He paused. _But she don't look like that any more, does she? _

He heard a loud knocking coming from the door in his bedroom. He sighed. Was this Rogue coming to chase him up? Could the girl not leave him alone for five minutes.

_Go away, Rogue, you're haunting me, for fucks sake,_ he thought miserably. He pretended to not be there, he continued drying his hair.

"Remy, you in?" came another knock. It was _Kitty's _voice, not Rogue's. Remy glanced through the open doorway of the bathroom and into his attic room. What did Kitty want? She never came to see him. Why didn't she just text his phone if something was important?

"No," he responded loudly, he supposed that was all that would give it away, he tried his left ear.

"Need to talk to you..."

"Look, I'm not interested, okay? I don't want to hear it," he called to the locked door.

This was going to be about Rogue, it _had _to be. Kitty never bothered much with him otherwise. He didn't want to hear about Rogue right now, the thoughts of what he'd done with her in memories and dreams and what had just happened at the breakfast table had left him just a little _too _conflicted to be able to handle speaking about the girl right now.

"I'm coming in," Kitty warned.

"Wouldn't if I were you," he walked towards his room still nude, drying his hair still. _Door is locked anyway,_ he reminded himself.

Kitty hadn't taken his advice and for one moment he had forgotten what Kitty's powers were. She'd stepped through the door before he'd even given it a second thought and he turned to see her standing there in his room, stopping mid step after seeing he had not a shed of clothing on and was dripping water on the hardwood floor.

"Told you," he remarked, he decided not to play with embarrassment today, he was _sick _of that game.

Kitty had walked in on him once before and seen him nude, he wasn't going to let her embarrass him again. Besides, he felt much more relaxed than he usually did thanks to that spontaneous climax. Regardless of having _not _wanted it to happen, he felt calm and at peace with himself and the sexual issues he'd struggled with since the coma.

"If you stand there any longer, I'm just going to assume you came here to see me naked. Hang about longer than that and I'm going to expect a hand job," he muttered, hoping it would make her leave.

Kitty tried to ignore looking down at his body, she focused on her face, he saw her brow furrow, face going pink, "are you okay?" she asked.

Remy raised an eyebrow at her, "uhm...what?"

"Are you _okay?_" she repeated, this time much more forcefully.

"Uhm...yeah, I just showered..." he gestured to his nude body, "do I look like I'm not okay?"

Kitty shrugged, her eyes struggling to remain on his eyes.

He sighed, still drying his hair, "go on and look if you're going to."

"I don't _want _to look," Kitty struggled to say, her cheeks growing pinker by the moment. "There's nothing _impressive_ to look at, so just...put it away," she added uneasily.

Remy threw the towel to the floor, "are you _kidding_ me?" he gave a vague laugh, "You come into my room _uninvited,_ act like a crazy person, then you insult my body? You tryin' to give me a complex? You could at least compliment me on how good I look before you unleash the craziness on me," he uttered. It had been a while since _any _woman had complimented his body, he wouldn't have minded even if it _was _Kitty to comment on it.

"Like I said," Kitty folded her arms, determined he wasn't going to embarrass her, "Nothing impressive to see there...you aren't even _that _big."

Oh, that one stung. He frowned, "it's not the size of the fucking hammer, it's the way you _swing_ it," he muttered as he sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbing his clean underwear from where he'd left them to pull them on. "Like you've seen bigger?" he asked, knowing for a _fact _she hadn't.

Kitty's face was bright red now, he saw her try to play off the embarrassment with an immediate change of subject; or rather, a swing back to the _original _subject. "_Are _you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jesus, what is this? Why barge into my room to ask a stupid question like that?" he demanded.

"It's just...yesterday you didn't even come out to have dinner with the rest of us at the barbecue, and you _love _barbecue. You always like lying out in the gardens in the evenings on nights like last night but you just bailed. Is...something botherin' you?"

"I was tired," he responded. It wasn't far from the truth. He'd worked hard all week, there'd been that damn mission on Friday night, he had the right to be tired, didn't he?

"Is it 'cause of Rogue?"

"No," He replied, that was partly a lie. "I was tired, I fell asleep somewhere around half seven or eight, I was drained. I been workin' my ass off all weak, trainin' hard, then the mission on Friday. I was wrecked. I slept until eleven am this morning...I was exhausted. That's it."

"Oh."

He studied her pink cheeks and her slight pout and realised his brashness and harsh tone had left her feeling quite awkward and embarrassed. He'd been out of line. He tried to make excuses to himself that it was just the heat causing him to feel irritable. He realised he _shouldn't _have been feeling that way at all. If anything he should have been in a fairly relaxed and pleasant mood now that he'd had a little release.

Softening his tone, he sighed, "You don't gotta worry about me, petit. I'm not like Rogue, I don't need to fall apart as soon as things start getting heavy," he pointed out.

Kitty gave a laugh of disbelief, "seriously? _You?_"

Remy gazed up at her, frowning.

"You get _drunk_ whenever things get too heavy," Kitty reminded, "Last time you got so liquored up you manage to get yourself beaten to a pulp and mugged."

"I _wasn't _liquored up," Remy replied, "I was _punch-drunk,_ there's a difference."

"Whatever," Kitty sighed, "Look I just...wanted to make sure you were all right. I saw the look on your face when she got back...you were really uncomfortable and awkward..."

"I'm fine."

"You looked like a deer in the headlights," Kitty frowned, "and _that's _not like you...I've never seen you get that look before..."

"It was just...a shock, that's all."

"You knew she was coming back," Kitty pointed out, watching as he searched through his dresser for a pair of shorts.

"Yes, I knew it," he turned to look at her, "I'd been _preparin'_ for it all day, but it still came as a shock...seein' Rogue standin' there like _nothin'_ had changed, huggin' me like _nothin_' had happened, like she just expected me to be...okay?"

Kitty looked away, her expression conflicted, "that's what bothered you?"

"What bothered me," Remy muttered as he pulled on his shorts, "is that _she _wanted to dredge up shit and I'd rather not. I'm quite happy with things being as they are. I'll be friends, I'll be civil, but I _don't _want to talk about things. Every time I talk about things, things get shittier," he opened a drawer and sought out a t-shirt. "I've made my peace with what happened, it's time to just move on..." he slipped on his sneakers, grabbed his phone from the top of his bedside cabinet and pocketed it before heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Kitty asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Are you running away from this?" Kitty carefully queried.

Remy stopped at the door, holding onto the handle, "I'm just goin' out..." he turned to look at her, "Look...I _appreciate_ the fact you're checkin' on me, I appreciate you're just tryin' to make sure things don't escalate. But trust me, the less I talk about it, the better I'll be."

"You know if you ever want to talk about it..." Kitty reminded carefully.

"I know..."

"You should _trust _me, Remy..." Kitty sighed, "if there's somethin' goin' on...you should tell me before it starts to get to you..."

Remy tilted his head to stare at her strangely, "what makes you think somethin' is goin' on?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, I'm just..._saying_ if there is..." she stated calmly.

"I gotta go..." he shook his head.

"Go where?"

"Into town, I have a friend I wanna go see..." he admitted truthfully. Yes, going to see old Rose at the Acorn Street Retirement Home would help get him out for a while, give him somewhere to be where problems couldn't get to him, where he didn't have to be reminded of anything, and he _wouldn't _have to suffer any further embarrassment with his sexual problems. His problems _couldn't _follow him into that place, too many problems of other people were clogging up the airspace as it was to allow any of Remy's through the door.

"A friend?" Kitty asked, looking oddly surprised about this.

"Yeah," He responded, "a friend."

"You have _friends_?"

Why was this hard to believe? He had to wonder if he really was that unlike-able that it was completely unrealistic that he _could _have friends outside of the institute. "What, you think I can't have friends? That I should just keep to my _own _kind and live in the little claustrophobic world of mutants forever

_ "_No...it's just..." Kitty seemed conflicted for a moment as she searched for the reasoning behind her surprise, "you _know _you have to be careful, Remy...especially with friends."

"You think I'd go out and blab all our secrets? If anyone knows how to keep a secret, it's _me,_ remember?" he looked across at her pointedly. Yes, he had kept _her _secret, hadn't he? Although he supposed it might not count since he had blabbed to Rogue. _That one time is exempt, I had to do that, it was for Rogue's own good...for Kitty's too. I had no choice. All right, so I used it to manipulate Rogue, but still...it was what was best._

"I know that..." Kitty flushed hot at having to be reminded of this. He wondered if it always hung over her head.

"Look, all these months, I've kept that quiet, never told a soul, did I?" he asked.

Kitty's eyes dropped to the floor, "No," she said quietly.

"And I _could _have. But I wouldn't, 'cause I _know _when to keep my mouth shut."

"But this is different, Remy...one wrong word thing gets said out there...next thing you know we're being investigated..."

"Look, don't worry, I keep all my cards close to my chest, no one gonna see my hand, okay? Stop frettin' over nothin'. Go out, enjoy the sun, hang out with your friends, don't worry about me, petit. I'm _fine._"

Kitty sighed as he gave her a push towards the door, "Look, just...promise me..." she pleaded.

"Promise you what?" Remy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That if something starts bothering you, or...if something goes wrong, or something happens that you won't just...keep it to yourself. That you'll talk to me about it, that if...I don't know, if you think you're under stress-"

Remy laughed a little, "You really think I'm that fragile?"

"I saw you starting to go off the rails," Kitty reminded, her big blue eyes on him full of worry; he read suspicion there too, but he understood it.

_She's right, I guess,_ he decided as he gazed at her. _I wasn't far from goin' off the rails._

"I appreciate the concern," Remy drew his breath, "but I'm fine."

"Stop avoiding what I'm asking and just _promise_ me," Kitty begged of him.

"Okay, fine," he finally gave in. "If something comes up...and I need someone to talk to, I'll let you know," he crossed his heart with his index finger, silently changing the rules in his head. _Only if it's something that ain't pertainin' to sex, Rogue, drugs, alcohol, or stress. So...pretty much, never?_

With this promise, Kitty finally left him alone, and he locked his bedroom door and left to go downstairs to the garage. Logan was in there working on changing a tire on Jean's car. Remy grimaced, he supposed that meant he couldn't borrow her car today. He also realised it wasn't particularly a good sign because as far as he was aware, he'd _also _been the last person to drive the car.

"You know you drove over glass?" Logan asked, "fucked up a front tire."

"I didn't know..." Remy came over to look at the damage, there was a huge piece of glass embedded in the front left tire, he hadn't even noticed it when he'd gotten out of the car yesterday evening. "Must be pretty strong glass," he made a face.

"Jean is pissed, you know..." Logan admitted.

"I guess I owe her money for the replacement..." he sighed. _Great, more money I don't got._

"Yep," Logan grunted.

Remy leaned against the wall casually, "Any chance I could borrow your Jeep?"

"Are you kiddin' me? You fuck up one car, so you want to borrow another?"

"My bike is still out of commission," Remy reminded.

"Professor told you he'd pay for the bike to be fixed," Logan rolled the damaged tire out of the way.

"I know," Remy sighed, "But I already live here rent free with meals provided and shit, I don't need more handouts. I'll pay for it to be done when I can afford it."

"You should have been takin' better care of it from the get go," Logan stated, "vehicles are like women, they need constant attention and maintenance."

Remy rolled his eyes, "I guess that makes taxi cabs _whores,_" he glanced down at the stocky man.

"If that's the case, you better get to the nearest phone and call yourself a _whore_ to come pick you up, 'cause you ain't takin' my Jeep."

"Come _on,_ I don't wanna sit at that bus stop for forty minutes waitin' for that blind-ass bus driver who drives at two miles. You gonna let me borrow your Jeep or what?"

"What for?"

"Wanna go into town."

"To do what?"

"Visit a friend."

"What friend?"

"A new one," Remy raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was being interrogated for the second time in a five minute span. What was it with these people and their assumptions about any kind of friendship or life he might have outside of the institute? It was if he weren't _permitted _a private life any more...

"Long as you make it back with the car by six. I got a poker game over in Woodview at seven and it takes an hour to the place. And you better take care of it. If I find _any _punctures on my tires, I'll use _your _hide to patch it with."

"I'll be careful," Remy promised.

Remy drove off into town, glad that he'd ended up with the Jeep instead as at least he had the air all around him to cool him from the blistering afternoon sun. Listening to the local rock station and feeling the wind in his hair helped a little to take his mind away from his troubles.

He reached the retirement home just after two pm, the place was fairly quiet for a Saturday, Remy had half expected there to be lots of families in to visit relatives but the reception area was silent; the receptionist looked at him curiously, wondering why he was wearing sunglasses inside the somewhat shady area.

"Hi," He approached the desk, "I'm here to visit Rose."

"Which Rose?" asked the middle-aged receptionist, looking at him through her cat-eye glasses suspiciously.

_Good question, which Rose? She never told me her last name, and neither did that Nurse...what was the nurse's name again? Was it Renz?_

"It's okay, Bridget," came a familiar voice at his back and he turned to see the redheaded nurse there, her smile bright, "he's here to see Rose Knightly. He's on the list."

"Name?" asked receptionist Bridget, her eyes squinting a little.

"Remy LeBeau," he responded, leaning there on the high counter waiting to be allowed clearance.

It took a moment for the receptionist to find him on the list, and somewhat grudgingly she gave him a visitor's pass.

"Rose is in the common room," Nurse Renz explained, leading the way down the hall. "I'm actually surprised you came _back. _Not many people would."

"Well..." he shrugged, "I was sittin' at home, and just, you know, thinkin' that maybe it'd be nice if I came down here. You said she didn't have any family...and I thought it'd _suck _if she was here alone on Saturday watchin' everyone else get visitors."

Nurse Renz gave a dazzling smile, her pretty brown eyes twinkling with hints of topaz and amber from the light coming in from a nearby window, "that's sweet of you."

Remy smiled too, thinking that this woman was quite attractive in a strangely natural way.

The nurse's face darkened slightly after a moment, "to be honest...most of the others don't get visitors either."

"They don't?" Remy asked curiously, they stopped at a pair of double doors.

"You see..." said Nurse Renz, "this...this is where people send their relatives to be _forgotten,_ to be put out of the way. They can't afford to look after them, they don't _want _to make the effort to try...this is what happens..." she was about to push the door open, Remy stopped her.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

She tilted her head, her red curls bobbing a little against the blue and pink pattern of her uniform, "Nurse Renz," she reminded.

"Your _first _name," he tried, he gave her a little smile.

"Oh...it's Rowan..." she gave a nervous smile.

"Thanks, Rowan," he put his hand against the door, but didn't pull it open just yet.

"For?" she asked.

"For givin' me a chance, for not havin' me checked out and vetted before lettin' me in...most people wouldn't give me the time of day," he confessed.

"Why?" Rowan asked curiously, she folded her arms casually, waiting for a response.

_Because I'm a mutant, not that I can tell you. Luckily it's a hot day and these sunglasses don't look out of place._

"Well...place like this, it's like you said, people have come in, things gone missin'. I probably look hell of a suspicious wantin' to visit an old woman I don't even known from Adam who just happens to have Alzheimers...it could raise all kinds of red flags."

"I'd be lying if the thought _hadn't _occurred to me," explained Rowan honestly, "but...you brought her back, you took care of her...most people would have called the cops. Rose doesn't _have _much to steal, Mr. LeBeau, but somehow...I don't think that's why you've come anyway..."

Remy supposed he'd come here just to avoid home, perhaps that showed. "Why do you think I've come?" he asked.

"Like you said, you felt guilty," Rowan supposed, "Rose doesn't have anyone. Perhaps...you don't either?"

He looked down at her, he could be surrounded by people at home, but in a way the woman was right. He _didn't _have anyone. Perhaps it was better that way, he'd always felt it was better to be alone than surrounded by people who could betray you at the drop of a hat.

"Go on in. Visiting is only until three, you'll miss the entire visit if you stand here talking to me all day," Rowan laughed softly.

Remy felt strangely reluctant to leave the nurse, it felt easy talking to her, he couldn't exactly understand what it was about her, but she put him at ease. Something about her kind eyes and beautiful smile, the way she wore no makeup, the way her naturally curly hair sat upon her shoulders.

He'd found himself reading her face during their discussion and seeing the signs of someone who was straight-laced, someone who was honest. He could almost read her entire average life written in the faint freckles on her cheeks. This girl had never seen a day of action in her life, she didn't lead an extremely complicated and unpredictable life.

It struck him right then that he wanted to get to know this girl better, because _she _was the kind of girl that was _exactly _what he needed at this stage in his life. For once, he didn't want to chase the mysterious girl, the dangerous girl, or the unpredictable girl. He wasn't looking for insane, random encounters, or wild and exciting experiences, he'd done all that. He wasn't looking for thrills, sexual or otherwise; what was the point after all?

No, what Remy LeBeau needed was someone dependable, someone who was going to offer him _everything_ that one night stands didn't provide. A girl who didn't look at him with lust, nor with expectations.

_I ain't been on a date in a long time...maybe it's time to get back into the swing of things. _Remy couldn't remember the last date he'd actually been on and it'd be nice to try and get out there again, try to have a life, perhaps even _attempt _to keep the date going without constant flirting, suggestive innuendos and deliberate mind-games to get what he wanted.

_It'd be good for me, maybe. Been tryin' to change up my life, live a better more honest way...maybe datin' could be a part of that._

For the past few months he'd been considering going out with girls again, especially whenever he was in the room with Jean and Scott. Watching them be together and being _happy_ had left him feeling that perhaps there was _something _missing in his life. There had to be something to it, something more than sex if even Jean and Scott could stay together when they weren't even – as far as Remy knew – fooling around.

As the summer had rolled in, the romances had flourished everywhere he looked, coffee shop girl and the guy who ran the kiosk that sold newspapers across the street, and even the old mailman who brought mail to the Motel every day and talked about his new girlfriend.

It had made Remy realise how much he _missed _the company of women, how he missed the chase on that first date, the trying to figure out what it was that charmed the girl, the fight to the first kiss, and the challenge of getting to the bedroom before it was even ten pm.

_No, it can't be that way now. Besides...broken, remember? But maybe it's better that way, it'll give me a chance to figure out if I _am _capable of havin' a normal relationship without sex even bein' an issue. To see if I'm even capable of holdin' a conversation throughout a date long enough to even score a second or third._

He watched as Rowan left him at the doors, jogging a little down the hall as she heard a crash coming from one of the rooms nearby. Putting the dating idea out of his mind for the time being, he pushed his way through, looking amongst the sea of blue-rinses, balding heads and glasses. Most of the residents were watching an old black and white film on the old fashioned television set. Remy thought it quite sad that this place had very poor facilities. The screen was barely twenty-two inches, and most of them must have been struggling to see what was happening on the screen considering how far back their chairs were.

Remy spied Rose sitting in a chair on her own by the window, looking outside in the gardens outside, which looked somewhat overgrown and weedy. He approached slowly, feeling a little apprehensive about seeing her again, wondering if she _may _start accusing him of molestation like she had when trying to get her in and _out _of the car yesterday.

"Rose..." he greeted, trying to sound far more cheerful than he felt at this moment, he examined her sad face, her tired eyes, her weathered hands as they sat upon her blue skirted lap.

Rose raised her watery grey-blue eyes to him and she almost seemed to light up, "Dillon..."

Remy took a seat on the chair opposite her, his knee banging carelessly against the coffee table between them, "No, no, my name is _Remy,_ remember?" he asked gently.

"Does your _father_ know you're here?" she asked in her trembling voice, leaning forward a little.

He sighed inwardly, it was going to be difficult to try and explain to her he wasn't her grandson Dillon, that the lad was dead and had been for some time. He looked into her eyes, seeing her excitement that he was _there. _For Rose Knightly, Dillon _was _there, and Remy supposed it would be cruel to let her think anything different.

"You know...I don't think he does," Remy admitted, he let his elbows sit on his lap and rested his chin in his hands. To think of it, he wasn't sure Jean-Luc even knew if he was _alive _right now or not let alone where he may remotely be. He probably didn't care too much either. "How are you?"

"They're stealing my pills, you know," Rose leaned forwards a little to whisper it.

"Who is?" asked Remy, looking from Rose to around the room to see whom she might be referring to.

"The nurse with the watch and the wart...she's always taking my pills...and switching my orange juice with castor oil. And they keep moving my things...hiding them. I can't find my knitting...and I can't find my left slipper..." she gestured down to her feet; indeed she _was _only wearing one slipper today.

Remy blinked, "uh...okay," he said.

He was beginning to wonder why he'd came here; the woman was in one of those strange states, speaking of things he doubted were happening. Clearly what was happening here is that she was _forgetting _she had been taking her pills, and that she had lost her own knitting and slipper. He wasn't sure what to make about the claim about the castor oil though, unless of course they were trying to make her drink it due to constipation. He wasn't at all that interested in investigating that.

"They're trying to drive me batty you know," Rose said, "But they won't get the best of me, I know what they're up to..."

"You'll get the best of them, I'm sure," Remy smirked a little. They probably wouldn't have to try too hard to drive the woman batty, she seemed to be pretty much there already. For some reason he liked that though, at least someone was as messed up as he was.

"But where have you been, my darling?" Rose asked, her brow furrowing, her lips trembling, "You don't come to see me any more..."

"I'm here now," he pointed out.

"Why didn't that no good mother of yours come, or your father?" Rose asked, looking hopeful to hear about the family she had already forgotten had died long ago. Remy wondered how many Saturdays she'd sat here waiting for them to visit, and they'd never come. How many times had she felt forgotten about?

_They never came because they died, Rose, I'm sorry, but they won't ever come, _he thought sadly. He reached over, taking her hand, noticing how very dry and cold it felt within his own. He held it in one hand and rubbed it gently with the other, "they couldn't make it, Grandma," he lied, feeling awful for lying to her, feeling _awful_ for calling her grandma. "But they send their love..."

"Did you graduate yet? You were always so clever with that history..."

Remy thought about this, how to keep the lie up. So Dillon had been a history student? Where? High school? College? How old had Dillon been? _Somewhere about my age, I reckon. Maybe we look similar...maybe that's why she thinks I'm him. What happens though when she gets to be _far _more lucid and remembers I'm the guy from the park?_

"I graduated, Grandma, and I work a _great _job now," he lied.

"What about _girls,_ Dillon? You can't spend all your time with boys, you need to get married...and settle down..."

Remy lowered his eyes, absorbing this information, trying to decide how to answer it, how to lie just to make her happy. It seemed all he ever did these days was lie to people, "You know me, grandma," he finally responded, hoping that it would satisfy her.

"I know, I know, you're not 'ready'," tutted Rose. "I just...wish I could be at your wedding before I die..."

He wasn't sure why that comment hurt. He'd never had a grandmother, or a mother to say something like that. He wondered if any of his _true _blood relatives were out there wondering about him. He avoided the thought, had been avoiding thinking of them and had been silently hating them for years. He supposed it was unfair to hate people he didn't know; for all he knew he hadn't been abandoned by his birth parents, or maybe had been stolen, or...perhaps they'd died and he'd been left.

_I'll never know about them, they'll never know about me. Get over it, no point in bein' pissed off about shit I can't change,_ he told himself.

All the same, he had to wonder...Was there a grandmother out there somewhere who would have _wanted _to know him? Would she have _wanted _to see him get married? The thought left him feeling quite sad. He pushed it away. _No, stop goin' down the depressin' route. There's a lot to be happy about, you're nearly back to how you were, for fucks sake, you got off today, that's somethin' to be happy about, right? Okay, so you didn't _want _it to happen, but you still got it. That means somethin' still works._

"I just ain't found the right woman yet is all," Remy responded, trying to get the thoughts of Rogue and his _problem_ out of his mind. He wasn't sure how else he _was _supposed to put it to Rose that she'd never be able to see _him _marry. He wasn't her grandson, and _he_ likely wasn't to get married anyway.

"You'll never know what life is about until you've fallen in love, Dillon..." Rose squeezed his hand a little.

"I know, Grandma," he sighed, feeling worse every time he had to call her grandma. _Keep up the lie, let her believe it. No point in lettin' her believe any different._

"I just want to know you're _happy_ before I die, my darling..." she used her free hand to gently caress his cheek, "that's all..."

"I am happy," he replied.

Why did that feel like the biggest lie of all?

* * *

**End of Part Five**

* * *

**Thanks to all who reviewed the previous chapter! Was so pleased Remy's *ahem* problem amused so many of you. To the person who asked if spontaneous climax for men _is _possible, it actually is. Used to happen to a work colleague many years ago, his experience of it came without any kind of stimulation or lustful thoughts and occasionally without even an erection. Always thought it would be a funny thing to throw into a fanfic (especially seeing as how previous material was a little darker). Will it happen again to poor Remy? Who knows ;)**

**Hope you all had a good weekend and have a great week. I'm off to slumber land myself. Love you all :)**


	6. Part 6

**Slight Return**

**Part Six**

* * *

Rogue had forgotten how good Bayville summers felt; she supposed she'd under-appreciated it until she'd felt the cooler summer of Scotland. Here, the heat was fine, the sun was strong and the air sweet, especially with all the summer flowers in bloom in the Xavier estate gardens.

She had decided to take a walk around the gardens to admire the flowers, something she hadn't done for some time. Pink and purple hydrangeas, the deep red and yellow roses, the trailing lobelia and the fuscias dangling from baskets and urns.

_Ah missed it here,_ she realised as she sat upon a stone bench, a soft summer breeze brushing against her hair. Even the breeze was hot. She closed her eyes to feel it caress her cheek, she heard a fly buzz near her ear and the sound of birds up in the trees somewhere off to the west.

A loud footstep caught her attention on the gravel path and she snapped her eyes open, turning to look to where the sound had come from only to find Piotr Rasputin standing there, a large and rather thick sketch pad dangling from his large hand, a pencil tucked neatly behind his ear, almost disappearing into his jet black hair.

"Sorry, I did not realise anyone was out here," Piotr rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking awkward and somewhat shy.

"It's fine, Ah was just, you know, restin'," she shrugged. _Restin' from what? Ah've done nothin' since yesterday!_ She thought, laughing a little at herself. "You out here sketchin'?"

"Yes, I...thought I may sketch the flowers."

"You got a lot to pick from out here," Rogue shifted along the bench to allow him room to sit.

Piotr sat beside her, leaving almost two feet of space between them. She turned to watch as he placed his pad upon his lap and flipped the book open about three quarters the way through, then he began flipping from page to page, revealing sketch after sketch already there; her eyes caught sketches of many of the X-Men. She wondered if they were from memory, or if they'd been posed for.

"Wow," she breathed, she stopped him from flipping over the next page so she could examine a portrait drawn of Ororo; it was almost candid, she seemed to be sitting in the picture, her strong and beautiful profile full of dark lines and bright highlights, it almost looked like a photograph, "It almost looks like a photograph..."

"I copied it from a photograph," explained Piotr, his cheeks going pink at the compliment, "I take a picture when someone is not looking, when they are comfortable, when they are being natural...then I draw it..."

Rogue allowed him to flip the next page, one of Jean and Scott at the barbecue yesterday, they were laughing, it looked so real.

"Do...you think that people would be angry?" Piotr asked concernedly. Rogue almost wondered why until she realised that taking pictures of people without permission or in secret may come off as creepy. If they saw these pictures, she thought they would feel differently.

"Ah doubt it," Rogue finally confessed, "when they see these, they wouldn't find anything wrong about it..." she chewed her lip thoughtfully examining the book, "You should give them that picture..." she gestured to the picture of Scott and Jean, she was sure they would like something like that, something intricate and intimate. Photographs couldn't capture scenes like that as well as Piotr could with a pencil and paper.

"You think they would like it?"

"Ah know they would," Rogue admitted, "may Ah see the other sketches?"

Piotr gave a shrug, seeming to almost be curious as to why she would even want to. Rogue took the pad from him and flipped the pages down from the first. Some were older...much older. There was a drawing of Magneto in various poses, angry, reflective, one even with an almost half smile upon his face. There was a picture of the Toad, another of Pyro. There was one of Wanda looking strangely demure and happy; a rare moment for her indeed.

And then she stopped, coming across a drawing of Remy LeBeau. He was sitting looking slightly to the left, looking strangely smug and happy. Piotr drew him beautifully like a Greek God, just like he seemed to draw the others. But the portrait of Remy was amongst the finest, to Rogue, it was almost breathtaking.

It made her heart ache, she wished to see him with that kind of a look on his face again, when he was care free, and light hearted, and didn't care much about anything. Looking at that picture made him feel strangely closer than he had for a very long time.

Seeming almost embarrassed, Piotr tried to take the book away from her, "I'm...I'm sorry."

Rogue turned to look at Piotr curiously, "Huh? What? What for?"

"I...guess I didn't want you to see it...because of...things...you know..."

"Don't be sorry...it's a beautiful picture," Rogue said, she held onto the sketchpad, still examining the picture, "You draw him to a tea...everythin'...the way he smiles...it's so...perfect..."

Piotr breathed heavily, "he posed for that picture...it was not long before you came to us..." he explained.

Rogue sighed a little, "when things were better..."

"They were never _better,_ Rogue. Just different."

Finally, she flipped the pages, going from sketch to sketch, each one seeming to be better than the next but none as fine as his picture of Remy. After twenty or so pages of landscapes, landmarks and skyscrapers, suddenly, the material started to _change, _there were a bunch of practise pictures, a faint sketchy face shape, eyes that weren't quite perfect, a nose that had been erased and redrawn several times. She knew that face...it was all wrong...

Piotr seemed to get suddenly very nervous, he stood up and paced, Rogue glanced up at him curiously, he looked heavily embarrassed.

She turned the pages more, the face becoming more and more distinct with each picture. It took her a moment to realise that these portraits were of _Kitty. _ The reason that they were all different and practised is because they weren't from a photograph, they were from memory, and the features were smudged and rubbed as Piotr tried to mend what he had gotten wrong the first few times.

Several pages later, the portraits became more and more recognizable, the small slightly upturned nose, the large eyes, the delicate mouth and the thick hair, the perfect eyebrows and the vaguest dimple when she smiled.

"I...must get on with my drawing while the light is just right," Piotr said, sounding heavily embarrassed, he tried to take the book back but Rogue held it out of his reach to finish looking through what was there.

"You drew this from memory..." Rogue held up the final portrait.

"I..."

Rogue wondered how Kitty would take it if she knew Piotr had spent a lot of time trying to perfect her face on paper. She could see he was getting very flustered. He must have forgotten those portraits were there. _He really does like her...Remy didn't get it wrong...wow...does she even _know_? Why are they pretending to not even like each other when they obviously do?_

_"_They're...so good...you got her so right..." Rogue admitted.

"Please..." Piotr asked of her, his face growing hotter and hotter, sunburn could have envied the red his cheeks had gone.

"Ah guess Ah should go, Ah have a therapy session at three..." she handed him the sketch pad back, feeling slightly guilty now she'd flustered him so much.

Piotr seemed relieved for the subject change, he held his sketch pad to his stomach, his eyes on her, "you are in therapy here?"

"Twice a week," Rogue rolled her eyes, "via _Skype,_ how lame is that?"

Piotr gave a vague laugh, "if it does you any good, I don't suppose it is lame at all."

"Have fun sketchin'," Rogue waved at him and with that she went off to go find the nearest computer so that she could log in to Skype and call her therapist for the scheduled session. She hated this formality, but she'd been told it would be this way until she'd shown enough recovery that she no longer _needed _to be in therapy.

_How long is that gonna take? _She pondered, she glanced over her shoulder at Piotr who was far away down the garden with his sketchpad. She wished she'd taken the chance to ask _why _his date months ago with Kitty had failed, why they were acting so cold towards each other.

_Remy said somethin' about Kitty tellin' him that she wasn't over Lance yet, did she sabotage the date because she thought Lance would be back in her life? Or did Piotr mess up? _

She wasn't sure she'd ever know, and right now, she really didn't have the time to worry about it. The next hour would be spent talking about her feelings and what she planned to do to aid her recovery.

_Joy,_ she thought sarcastically; she was about to enter the mansion through the patio doors leading into the formal living room, but she stopped at the sight of Jean and Scott there kissing heavily, the redhead sitting on his lap on the wingbacked armchair.

Rogue sighed, knowing she'd _never _have that. _More material for the shrink, _she thought dully. _No wonder that guy is so rich he can afford a goddamn Lexus._

* * *

Remy left the retirement home a little past three pm feeling utterly depressed.

The entire visit with old Rose had proven to be tedious and extremely worrying. For some moments, she was lucid, at one point she had suddenly started talking about meeting him in the park, which had almost cheered him up until moments later she'd shifted back to calling him Dillon again, and asking when he'd get married and give her great-grandchildren. Then she'd be completely bewildered about where she was...sitting there, looking at him, suddenly getting frightened and asking him who he was. It shifted so quickly from one moment to the next that it had begun to disturb him. He had been _glad _when three pm came, so that he could leave. When he'd asked himself why he'd stayed so long, he wondered if it was because he'd felt obligated, or because he'd been afraid of leaving her there alone with no idea of what was going on.

The woman was a stranger to him but all the same, it disturbed him to watch her losing her mind in front of him. Each time she'd asked him why he hadn't found a nice girl to settle down with yet, he'd grown more and more depressed and judged.

_Is this how it feels when _real _relatives sit picking at your lack of a lovelife?_ He wondered as he climbed into Logan's Jeep. He sat there for a few moments trying to clear his head; the entire visit kept repeating itself over and over in his head like a CD track. Remy hated to admit to himself that he felt _guilty_ for thinking it fortunate the woman's family had died...they didn't have to witness her deteriorating like this. At least there were times when the woman didn't even know who she was, or didn't realise her family had perished...she didn't know better. They on the other hand _would _have known, and had to live with it every day.

Despite hating every minute of the visit, he had already decided he'd go back regardless. He couldn't leave her there like that on her own, sitting staring out of the window waiting on a grandson that would never show.

At times during the visit, in the moments she'd think he was Dillon, he'd wonder if she was only _pretending _he was Dillon because she wanted Dillon to be alive and there. Wouldn't she have picked up on how different his accent was from Dillon's? He supposed he didn't know where Dillon had hailed from or what he sounded like but there was a probability Dillon didn't have a thick Cajun accent.

He drove in circles for quite some time, all around town, and when he was determined to not waste any more of Logan's gas, he parked on the street near the Bayville Beanbox and ordered himself a Mocha. He glanced at his watch, it was past four pm. He'd have to go home eventually, but he needed to prepare himself to be in Rogue's presence again. She'd be there at the dinner table, the thought of possibly sitting there with yet another raging erection didn't settle well with him.

_Every time it starts, you gotta think of something else. Think of...I don't know, Vladimer Putin in a bikini...Tommy Lee Jones in a bra...Rosie O'Donnell in a leotard...yeah...somethin' that's gonna turn you off..._

He stared down into his mocha absently. _Or Rogue's skinny skeletal frame naked in a motel bathroom._

He winced, why did he go there? He _never _wanted to see that again, and yet there was the memory of it, fresh and painful. Every time it flashed into his mind afresh he felt cold at the thought that it _could _happen again. She might seem relatively fine for now, but the tables could turn, things weren't simple and she _wasn't _going to be cured just with a few good months of therapy and pills.

_Stop it,_ he told himself sternly as he raised the cup to his lips, despite the heat, a mocha always went down well, the sweetness lingered on his tongue and he felt just a little more contented. Happiness was simple things like this, and Rose wanted him to be happy didn't she? If happiness for this afternoon was a Mocha topped with whipped cream and a sprinkling of nutmeg, then why not have it?

A pretty face caught his attention, a customer walking in, a ditsy little dotty dress yellow dress, pale freckled legs rising from brown wedge sandals. Red curls piled onto her head with a clip.

She seemed familiar...

It was then he realised that it was the nurse...Nurse Renz, standing there in the line for coffee, her purse in her hand.

"Rowan," he blurted out loudly from across the cafe.

Rowan Renz turned, blinking, not sure who had called her name at first, and then her eyes dropped to where he was sitting with his sunglasses on. Remy straightened up a little. She looked so _different_ out of uniform, so much more comfortable and attractive. A tiny bit of mascara and the hint of lipgloss accented her features, the way the slightly lowcut neckline of the dress made her bust seem softer and less confined.

Rowan left the back of the queue and approached, "we meet again," she said with a slight smirk.

"End of shift?"

"Yeah. I've been on since four, I need a coffee _so bad_," she gave a slight yawn.

He gestured to the seat at the other side of the little wooden table, straightening up a little more, "care to join me? That's if you're not meetin' anyone here, no boyfriend or anythin'," he gave a strange nervous laugh. He wondered why he was nervous, he'd done this a thousand times, he'd _never_ been nervous before with a woman. Not like _this,_ not like a teenaged boy on a first date.

"No, not meeting anyone," she smiled taking a seat.

"Coffee is on me," he offered.

"No, don't worry, I got money," she laughed a little.

"I insist."

_What the fuck are you doing, Remy, you got twelve bucks left, you're gonna be broke for the next two weeks. What happens if she orders a muffin too? No lunch for the next few days! That's what!_

Regardless of financial troubles, he talked her into ordering something, and as the waitress went to get Rowan her cappuccino, Remy sat quietly looking across at Rowan, suddenly not knowing what way to steer the conversation.

_I used to be better at this,_ he reminded himself.

"So," Rowan sat comfortably back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, "How was your visit with Rose? I didn't see you on the way out...I was too busy giving Mr. Dixon a hose down..."

"A hose down?" Remy blinked.

"He...uhm..."

"Shit himself?"

Rowan made a face, "it happens from time to time...more so with him than the others. It's especially fun when he likes to let go of his bowels while doing his famous naked dances..."

Remy gave a vague laugh and looked down into his mocha, he supposed he should have been sickened, but she made it sound almost amusing.

"I'm sorry...it's not the time and the place to be talking about stuff like that..."

"No, it don't matter, really, I'm not easily embarrassed or flustered," he confessed. He supposed after all he'd seen in his life, after _all _he'd cleaned up in the past few months, being offended at this stage would be ridiculous.

"So...how _was _the visit?" she asked, glancing up as her cappuccino timely arrived.

Remy leaned forward upon the table, he sighed a little. He wished he didn't have to talk about it, it still depressed him horribly, "it...it was awkward...you know?"

"How?" Rowan took a packet of sugar from the container on the table and shook it before tearing the end and pouring it down into the foam of her coffee. He liked that she used _sugar,_ not sweetener. She wasn't the kind who watched her figure, it seemed.

"She...thought I was her grandson. Several times. And I guess I just let her believe that...it seemed easier than lettin' her down or...tellin' the truth."

Rowan looked at him with a slight smile, "I know...after the visit I went to take her for her nap before dinner and she was talking about how Dillon came to see her, how he'd graduated from college and had a good job..."

Remy gave a vague laugh, "wouldn't say it was a _good _job."

"Whatever pays the bills," shrugged Rowan. "It was sweet of you to do that for Rose...she never has visitors. It always makes me feel so guilty when she asks about when her family are coming...it's easier to lie about it than tell her the truth, because she forgets the truth so quickly..."

"I know...found myself repeatin' the same conversations with her several times all through the hour."

Rowan stared across the table at him, Remy could see her pondering why it was he _hadn't _removed his sunglasses since they'd met. _"_So...how come I haven't seen you around town before?"

"I've been around...I stay outside of town though..." he shrugged.

"Where about?"

"Greymalkin," he replied, looking away from her, wondering if she was about to twig what that might mean.

"That's a...pretty large area, not many small houses up there, just...mansions..."

"Yeah."

"So you're from money, then?" Rowan asked.

"Nope..."

"Thank god, I hate trying to be appropriate around people who have money...it makes me so...uncomfortable," she admitted.

"I stay up there, that's all...I don't actually own anything," he shrugged, "other than a broken down Harley Davidson and a prepay phone, that is," he added.

"Broke like me then, huh?"

"Pretty much."

Rowan sipped her coffee after stirring it thoroughly, "so you're a mutant, huh?"

He supposed it should have been more obvious, but it still surprised him how quickly, and how very _casually _it came out of her, as if she were asking if he like sugar or milk in his coffee. As if it were nothing at all. He didn't answer, he wondered if perhaps it had been when he'd lowered his head to look down into his mocha that she may have seen his mutant eyes.

"No one wears sunglasses in the shade unless they're hungover, blind, or have something to hide," Rowan admitted a little smugly.

Remy snorted, "what if I'm hungover?"

"Too healthy-looking, cheerful and loud-speaking to be hungover," she decided. "So...you are, aren't you?"

He had to consider carefully how to answer this, "What if...I was?"

"Doesn't matter, I guess," she shrugged, "I just wondered. So...why the glasses?"

_She didn't notice then,_ Remy realised. "My eyes betray what I am...it's easier to wear these and not be judged than be mistrusted constantly."

"Show me..." she suggested.

"Maybe another time," he pushed his glasses up his nose a little more. "I've been told it can be a little unnervin' the first time people look at me...besides...I wouldn't wanna use any of my _natural _power on you."

"Your _natural _power?"

"Some girls say they look into my eyes and get mesmerised so much that they could fall in love," Remy smirked.

"Oh, you're very sure of that, aren't you?"

"Oh yeah," Remy sipped his mocha.

"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"So I've been told."

Rowan sipped her coffee, the foam leaving a trace of white upon her lips, "so...where is it you work, anyway?"

"Bayville Best," Remy grunted, "that motel, down the road."

"Ohhh...that place," Rowan said.

Remy laughed at the way she referred to it as 'that place'. Yes, she knew the place too and it's reputation for being a mess. "Yeah, _that _place."

"I...stayed there once when I was getting my apartment fumigated...it's...uhm...not the nicest of motels. I don't think the toilet had been cleaned in weeks."

"Exactly," Remy nodded, "so...Yeah, so you see, I _too _clean up shit for a living. Only difference is I don't gotta scrape it from some guy's bunghole."

Rowan gave a tinkling laugh, "thank god...someone who understands!"

"It sucks, don't it?" he let his elbow rest upon the table and propped his cheek upon his hand, staring across at her, beginning to feel ever so more attracted to her than before.

"Oh, god, it does," she agreed.

"The shit, the piss, the spunk..." he muttered under his breath.

It amused him that she didn't even _blink_ at the mention of semen.

"Every day feeling like you have to shower in _bleach _just to feel remotely _clean _again..." she concurred. "But you're lucky, at least you don't have to deal directly with the people..."

"I suppose you're right," he agreed.

"I get so many dirty old men..."

"Mr. Dixon?" Remy teased.

"Actually, yes," she admitted, "But...it's all human nature and all that and we have to just be professional and just clean up whatever mess they leave, whether it's shit, piss, or like you said, _spunk_."

_I like this girl...she's easy to talk to...this is goin' well. Maybe I should ask her out...try to move on. Get my mind off of Rogue and all this shit at home..._

Remy tilted his head examining her as he continued speaking.

"I have this one patient...he always waits until he's in the bath and starts trying to jerk himself off..."

"How do you handle something like that?" Remy asked curiously, he watched her sip her coffee and lick the foam from her pretty mouth. It was a shame that sight did _nothing _to arouse him. Perhaps one day it might?

"You _don't _handle it, you don't even go _near it,_" Rowan cracked, she dropped her eyes.

"Har har," Remy rolled his eyes at her but smiled, "I mean...what do you do? Do you like...just pretend you don't notice or...?"

"Like I said, it's all about being professional. You can either pretend to notice, and then just clean it up after, or...tell the dirty old man to put it away and stop what he's doing. Sometimes that doesn't work...sometimes they get aggressive...that's when we have the male care assistants come into help wash them."

"Smart move," Remy agreed. "Gotta admit, takes a pretty strong person to do that kind of thing."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Don't think I could," he admitted uneasily.

"Because of the aggression?" Rowan queried, she drew invisible circles into the table top absently.

"I don't know, just the...you know, the people, you get them, they're already sick. I mean, I heard someone say once we're _dyin'_ since the day we're born, but these people, they're _actually _dyin'...they maybe got a few good years, full of sickness and ailments..."

Rowan gave a sad nod, "it's true...a lot of them are _very _sick...and it's sometimes hard to be professional...having to stop from getting too attached. Sometimes it can be pretty hard when someone passes away."

Remy looked out of the window distantly. He'd never had to deal with death before...at least not directly. No one he'd loved had ever died...but then again, he hadn't really _loved _to that kind of extent. That was one good thing about having no real parents, he supposed. He'd never be subject to that kind of heartbreak. In a way it was a relief, he didn't have much in his life to lose.

The subject was suddenly quite depressing, he didn't like it. Desperate to move away from it, he quickly changed it. "So...tell me a little about yourself...?"

"What do you want to know?" Rowan asked, "You already know my name and where I work, what else is there?"

"You grew up here?"

"Yeah," she replied, "Bayville elementary, Bayville High school, Bayville community college, and now, I work at the retirement home."

"Would it be impolite if I asked your age?" he teased. Some girls who got past a certain age liked to pretend they were younger, or some liked to avoid answering altogether. He wouldn't have pegged Rowan past age twenty-four. She certainly didn't seem like she could be older.

"Twenty-five," she replied.

"I'd guessed twenty-four," he confessed.

"I'm having a hard time guessing your age," Rowan confessed, "You look young, but...I'm not so sure."

"Take a stab," he offered.

"Same as me," she shrugged.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, "I look that old?"

"I look _old_?" she gasped.

"No, of course not," he responded quickly, suddenly quite flustered, "I mean-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing," Rowan put her hand on his arm, "how old are you?"

"Twenty-two," he replied. He thought it so strange thinking of himself as twenty-two when he'd never even experienced the _birthday._ He still felt twenty-one...but then he supposed he'd be feeling that way until he got so old his bones started to ache and he'd _really _feel his age.

"So young," Rowan tutted.

"Maybe. But I got a lot more years of experience on my belt than my age suggests...sorry, didn't mean for that to sound so racy," he laughed, feeling somewhat nervous again.

Rowan gave a little smile, "I was almost afraid you might be eighteen or nineteen...it's hard to tell someone's age sometimes if you can't see their _eyes,"_ she pointed out.

"Yeah, trust me on this, you're not ready," he stated.

For a little while they talked some more, about Rowan's job, about _his _job, about the other things they hated about what they did. It was all very general, but comfortable, jokes flying back and forth. The dregs of his coffee had gone cold, and he was almost certain hers was the same. If he'd had more money he'd have suggested another cup but unfortunately he wasn't sure what was left in his wallet could handle the strain.

It was by chance he glanced to the clock behind the counter at the back of the shop that he saw what time it happened to be. "Jesus...is it five already?" he asked with surprise.

"Yeah..." Rowan checked her own watch, "it's been a fast hour..."

"We've been here an hour?" He blinked, "Has it really been that long?"

"Yep," she said with a smirk.

"I really need to go," he realised. _Fuck, didn't even prepare for what I might say to Rogue if she asks why I was a fuckin' freak at the breakfast table...I'm sure she didn't believe that whole sneeze excuse. What do I say if she sits near me at dinner? Not sure I can handle that whole breakfast table fiasco again so soon..._

"Yeah, it's getting late..."

"Takes about forty minutes to get to Greymalkin from here," he put the money for the coffee down on the table, all twelve dollars and eighty-five cents of what he had left. "Gotta be home at six in time for dinner."

"So...who do you go home to anyway?" asked Rowan curiously, her eyes were asking the question with a different approach.

_She wants to know if I got a girlfriend, or a wife. This would be a good time to ask her out, LeBeau. You've been out of commission for a good while but you know the way this works,_ he told himself.

_ "_Friends," he replied, "I live with a bunch of friends. Got no family to speak of, really," he explained, "I...got no one special in my life, you know? Kind of like old Rose in that regard."

"No wonder you felt so bad that she didn't have anyone to go see her," Rowan supposed, her expression suddenly slightly sad.

"Is..." Remy thought carefully, he wanted to ask her out but he was almost certain he couldn't _afford_ to take her anywhere. "Is there any chance you'd...wanna hang out some time again?"

"Maybe," Rowan admitted, her eyes twinkling, "what did you have in mind...?"

"I don't know..." he paused, trying to think of a good way to have a date _without _spending a penny. He'd happened upon a hidden wine cellar in the mansion the week before when doing some chores, he'd tripped on a rug and been sent sprawling, revealing a hatch that no one had apparently known was there; down there were bottles and bottles of good wine. He supposed he could always take a bottle and find a way to replace it later, the dust everywhere on everything told him nothing down there was probably ever touched anyway, it'd probably never be noticed.

_Wine, and a DVD,_ he decided. _Yeah, perfect. Hope she's got her own place, 'cause I doubt the Professor is gonna be up for me entertainin' a girl in my room. Besides, not sure how I'd explain all the mutant kids runnin' around..._

"How about..." he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment to seem contemplative about it, "how about I come over to your place...bring a bottle of wine, maybe a movie?"

"Maybe," Rowan reasoned, "Is next Saturday okay?" she asked, "it's just...I have my sister visiting, she hogs the only television I have every night _and _she's sleeping on the couch, but she leaves on Friday, so..."

"Saturday is _fine,_" he assured, "I'll maybe stop by the retirement home durin' the week to see Rogue..."

Rowan raised her eyes to him as he stood up, "Rogue?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"You said _Rogue."_

"Sorry, I meant Rose..." he groaned inwardly. _Where'd _that _come from? Why'd I suddenly come out with her name, I wasn't even remotely thinkin' about her. _"I'll stop by probably some time around midday...after my shift...maybe Tuesday or Wednesday if that's all right?"

"Visiting hours are _usually _one 'til three, but...no one cares much these days, I doubt anyone will give you flack for visiting at that time."

"Great, I'll see you then," he smiled, it felt forced, perhaps that was just because of his accidentally blurting out Rogue's name.

They said their goodbyes and Remy left; it wasn't until he was already outside of town that he wished he'd thought to suggest he give her a ride home. He suddenly felt quite rude to have not thought of this. _Perhaps I'm just bein' stupid, she maybe already has a car. I'm all over the place lately, what is with me? I used to be so smooth, now I'm a mess. This is just...it's nerves, because of Rogue, that's all. I'm on edge..._

Yes, that was all this had to be, he was on edge, waiting for the moment when the shit would hit the fan, and he was sure that eventually it was going to.

_When the shitstorm hits, just be prepared to hold up an umbrella._

* * *

**End of Part Six**

* * *

**Eeek, took a while to get this chapter uploaded (blame my bad back, it's hard sitting to edit/write when you're in pain a lot of the time, I wish I'd uploaded some of these chapters to my iPad so it's easier, I must look into doing that at some point, lol). Anyway, sure some people are screaming NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO at the idea of Remy and Rowan, lol. Hope you're all having a good week (and you're having as nice weather as we've had in Scotland the past few days, lol). Thanks to all who've reviewed and shown interest in the story. You guys rock :)**


	7. Part 7

**Slight Return**

**Part Seven**

* * *

_Dearest Remy,_

_ This has been probably the hardest letter I've ever had to write. I've never been good at trying to put my thoughts down onto paper, and trying to get out all I've had to stay to you for months in a single page is hard without turning this into the Twilight Saga...or War and Peace._

_ I know you don't want to hear any of it, you probably don't want to read any of it either, but it's important that you know the truth. I know you'll be sitting there thinking of ripping up this page without even reading it, asking yourself why you should give me a chance to explain? For the most part, I expect it really...you've already made your mind up that there's things you don't want to know...but my therapist says I'll never be straight, I'll never be over the anxiety and the guilt until I tell you those things, and part of me thinks he might be right._

_ Some of the things I need to say are too hard to say out loud, others...can't be said in a letter. What I can say here, I'll do my best to try and make you understand why I did what I did...and why I said what I said..._

_ So where do I begin? Do I start where I arrived at the gates of Magneto's warehouse hoping for a cure? Or do I start at the point where I began to feel so low that I wasn't sure there was much point trying to have a future when I couldn't even feel like part of the present I was already in? _

_ The suicidal thoughts...I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it long before I ever went into the machine. Can you imagine being my age, being eighteen and a prisoner in your own body, never having lovers, children, always having to keep everyone at arms length? I didn't see a future. Academically, I could have done something (if I'd had the aptitude I guess), but what good is education and money if you can't go out and have life experiences to go with the money you made from all the education? What's the point of working for nothing?_

_ I was getting tired of watching Jean and Scott together, watching friends here go out on dates and get into relationships while I'm left behind. I sat there thinking if this would go into my adult life...into thirties and forties...perhaps I'd always be alone. And that was when it struck me that I could ask Magneto for help._

_ I wish I could say Magneto took pity on me, but it wasn't pity he had...it was complete opportunity. He was in the process of planning a machine already to help Wanda...I never even known about it until had already happened. When I came to him that day, he saw that I could be the test subject. A willing participant had just fallen right into his hands. So convenient._

_ Even if I had known what I was going to be back at that moment, I'd have still made the jump. I was desperate; it wasn't that I wasn't thinking. I was thinking. I was thinking and I was overthinking. Thinking of all the things I wanted, the things I'd never had, and probably never would if I didn't at least take this chance._

_ I moved into the Warehouse, joined the Acolytes. You were my leader, you were my friend. You made the transition from being in the X-Men to being an Acolyte so easy. You made me feel welcome and wanted, and we grew close of over the weeks as Magneto built the evolution machine, and all the while you were trying to convince me to change my mind, that I was making a huge mistake and that I wasn't a lost cause just because of what my powers do._

_ This is where things get tricky to try and explain, Remy..._

_ How do I explain to you the parts that happened next without telling you the parts you really don't want to hear, the parts that could hurt you more than you really should be and deserve to be? I never want to have you to _relive _certain things, if I skip it, will it still all make sense?_

_ The incident where I nearly died...I think that's where things changed for us somewhere. There were feelings you had – things I hadn't truly trusted until I had stolen your memories well after. You had been feeling something for me for a while, but you weren't sure, it was...unfamiliar? It was new. I wasn't sure what I felt for you in the beginning...it was new for me too. We were starting to get close and then I had what I guess I'll call an accident._

_ When I almost died, you were frightened, I saw it in your memories long after. When I recovered, I was angry with you because of your involvement in what had brought it all about. We didn't talk for bit...feelings were starting to change more and more. You came to my motel room on Halloween night at the Bayville Best motel, my car broke down, I couldn't get home and no one would come pick me up; you got wind of where I was and even though we weren't talking, you came in like the knight in shining armour determined to save the day._

_ You were upset...something had happened, something I'm not sure I can ever really tell you about. All I can tell you is that you had been affected, and you were hurt. Sometimes I think back on that night and wonder if you were trying to save _me_ from being stranded at that motel, or if you came to me wanting me to save you..._

_ That was the night we finally figured out that we cared about each other, that was the night it started making sense for both of us. We spent the night on the bed, just lying next to each other, holding on. Nothing happened. I swear...not that it really could have anyway._

_ There were complications, we somehow struggled through them. You told me you loved me...we had experiences together, you said you didn't care about my powers and you tried to show me what I could have without needing to go through the machine. _

_ I was desperate for the cure, Remy, but being with you made me feel even more desperate. I was scared I'd lose you because of what I couldn't do, what I couldn't be, which was normal. You've fleeted from so many flings with girls, one to the next, and every time I thought about it, I wondered how long it'd be before you got bored of being limited. I spent nights awake thinking about how much I wanted to be with you, how I wanted to give you everything you ever wanted or needed..._

_ You said you had everything you needed, you didn't want or need _anything _from me except for me to say I loved you._

_ Except I couldn't...because part of me still felt like I couldn't have love if I couldn't act upon it one hundred percent. It had to be all or nothing._

_ Evolution became even more important, and the closer Magneto got to finishing the machine, the more and more we fought about why I shouldn't go through the machine. You were kicked out of the Acolytes and the warehouse because you figured out what I was to Magneto...a guinea pig, his little lab rat and test subject and it incensed you. You lost the head with him about that and everything that had been going on...and it cost you the leadership of the team, your place within it, and your home._

_ You were kicked out and you came to live here, with the X-Men._

_ I stayed with the Acolytes, with Magneto._

_ I know now that I was a fool to have just stood there and let you walk out, let Magneto make me think that I had to stay, that I was doing the right thing. Every time I think of it, my stomach gets all in knots. I let you walk out and I didn't even stand by you the way you tried to stand by me. I was selfish...I wanted what I wanted, I still wanted to be normal, I still wanted to be with you, and I wasn't going to walk out without getting what I wanted...I'll never forgive myself for that._

_ We met late one night a few nights before the machine was going to be completed...and we talked in the car about things. I had to know where you thought the relationship was going to go with me. Was it going to be a life together or was this all temporary? You said you didn't know. I wanted to know if it was because of the way I am...because none of it was going to be possible, you tried to tell me different._

_ That night you asked me to tell you I loved you and I still couldn't, I couldn't say it, not without being able to be there for you one hundred percent. I told you I wasn't going to say I love you until I could kiss you, until I could kiss you and mean it..._

_ I asked you to be there for my evolution, Remy. I made promises to you that if you came...you could have everything you wanted. Everything. There would be nothing I wouldn't do for you. At the time that promise scared me for so many reasons..._

_ The night the evolution machine was finally finished, I was a wreck, waiting, convinced you'd never show, that you'd stay away on principle, because you didn't believe in what I was doing. I waited and waited, growing sicker and sicker with the fear you'd finally left me._

_ When you showed, my heart leapt...it felt like everything was starting to fall into place, I'd have you, I'd have my evolution, I'd be able to taste of a normal life._

_ The machine put me in agony, long thick needles stuck in every part of me, right through to the bone...it felt like electricity was shaking my bones and liquid fire was burning through my veins and arteries, my guts felt ripped apart, my entire body stretched and pulled and every muscle seemed to ping and snap and tighten...but my mind stayed so lucid...and all the while I could only focus on one thing...that when I got out, I would be kissing you, that we'd be together._

_ When I came out, I was exhausted and aching...intense agony that left me weak. You caught me as I fell out and you held me in your arms...the pain didn't matter any more...not the burnin' feelin' all over my skin, not the weird way my fingers felt frostbitten...it all felt like it was worth it, I lay there in your arms drained...so comfortable. I felt sick a little, dizzy, but I felt like myself, it felt...like nothing was wrong._

_ I said to you 'it's time', and you were so freakishly shy at the thought of having Magneto, Logan and the Professor there to watch us kiss. I told you I didn't care, I'd waited long enough...and I told you the words you'd asked to hear. That I love you. You were so happy...you asked me to say it again. I did. I'd have said it a hundred times, a thousand, a million._

_ For months I've been replaying the memory in my head, I always blame myself for being the one who kissed you and put you into the coma, but...the truth of it is that you were the first to kiss me...soft and light. I remember your lips were dry, I remember I could feel the hair on your chin. It wasn't until you kissed me harder that it happened..._

_ Everything I felt was intense, floods of feelings and memories, thoughts and experiences, all kinds of sensations that were _yours_ suddenly became mine, nothing made sense...I felt almost like I was you...that we were the same person. _

_ I saw in your head how much you had loved me...how much you didn't want me to through the evolution process and how very much you did _not _want to be with me because of it. All the promises I'd made you, those weren't what you wanted from me, you wanted me, not what I could give you if the process worked..._

_ I think I might have blacked out...or that the memories and thoughts were so powerful that I lost myself, because when I eventually did get back to myself, you were on the floor, and Magneto was trying to resuscitate you. I was frantic...you were dying before me and all I could think was that it was my fault, Logan tried to calm me down, I threw him across the room, I didn't know that would happen, I started to panic. _

_ I screamed at Magneto right there while he was trying to keep you alive, he was doing CPR right on you and I was standing screaming at him, blaming him for what he'd done, every other night I have the dream that he stops trying to save you, and you die because we were too busy yelling at each other. I still feel guilty about it, it still kills me I couldn't do anything to help, couldn't even think straight._

_ I was breaking things, bending things, everything I touched was at danger, I was so confused and in a blind panic, I took off...when I got outside I took to the air, I don't know how it happened, I think I tripped on the door frame...I was up in the air, and then I fell and landed into the fence, got caught on the wire._

_ They took me home, my part in Magneto's plan was done, I was free...you were taken to the hospital room downstairs, and I was left to my room, crying and lost, my heart felt like it was falling apart. You were alive, but nothing was happening...you couldn't even breathe on your own. It struck me right then that the sacrifice I'd made wasn't myself, it was you..._

_ They asked me if I wanted to see you, but I couldn't go, couldn't even look at you...I didn't see you in that condition again, I didn't see you for months...heat breaking every time someone mentioned your name. I never saw your face again until you awakened from that coma._

_ Everything seemed pointless that night, there was nothing to live for, just pain, torture, living in a cage for the rest of my life. I remembered this razor in Kitty's drawer on the dresser...it's for cutting hair, it's a straight razor. I took off the cover and I stared at it, I remember exactly how shiny it was...and how sharp it looked. I slashed it across my wrist twenty goddamn times but it wouldn't even cut through me, didn't even leave the tiniest bit of a mark. I took handfuls of my hair and started cutting through it with the thing, I wanted to be sure it wasn't blunt, that it could cut. I saw handfuls of my hair fall and knew the blade wasn't the problem...I put it to my neck and tried to slice, it wouldn't work, I tried stabbing and slicing every part of me with it, my clothes were hanging in tatters and I was intact...until Kitty found me that way, and then I realised as whole as my body was...I was essentially broken._

_ Ever since that night, there have been nightmares. You always feature, the principal cast, the leading man, the star...and every night I watched you die, or become a monster who tries to kill me..._

_ The nightmares have started to go away thanks to the drugs and the therapy. The anxiety and the panic attacks, they're going away too. But the one thing I can't make go away, Remy, is the guilt._

_ The guilt is with me every morning, every night, from the minute I wake up to the minute I go to bed, it's there at the back of everything like a shadow lurking waiting to take me down. The guilt that reminds me of why I did all this, why it all happened, why I left you as virtually broken as I am. _

_ Because I'm selfish. Because I wanted what I wanted and no one was going to take it away from me. That's the reason why when I asked you if you loved me back in March and you told me no, I told you the truth at that moment...because of the selfishness. I wanted you to love me, I wanted things to be like they were; after what had happened in your room I'd almost thought things could possibly be that way again...but you broke my heart. You hurt me right at that moment and I wanted to hurt you, and the only way I knew how to hurt you and make you feel it was to make you feel like I felt...shameful and angry...and devastated._

_ I'm not asking for _forgiveness_, Remy, I want you to know that. I'm fine with never being forgiven. But what I have to be sure of is that you know I'm _sorry,_ I've been sorry for a long time and I'll continue to be sorry for the rest of my life for what I done to your life, and to mine. _

_ I've finally taken responsibility for what happened, I've accepted that there's things I can't change and that there's no easy way out of this. I've worked hard to get where I am now, fought to get to this point._

_ The things I've told you in this letter have been in my head for months, in rehearsed things I had intended to tell you face to face but you wouldn't give me the chance. Maybe it's selfish again, but I _had _to get these things out in the open, so you know the story. At least part of it, anyway._

_ The sad part is, as rehearsed as everything I've just written is, it still took me nearly four days of writing and re-writing, crumpling up letters and un-crumpling them just to get to this final draft...I think finally I've said things the way I needed to. I think finally I've managed to get out what had to be said._

_ Like I said, I don't need forgiveness...you said to me a long time ago that the only person anything I do matters to is myself, and that if I have to do anything, whether it get better, or feel something, it has to be for me, not for anyone else._

_ I'll never forgive myself, Remy, not for anything I've done to you, nor myself. But I'll live with it, I've accepted it, life is going to go on now the way it was meant to, by adapting and enduring whatever comes, good or bad._

_ But I have to reiterate again how _sorry_ I am and how thankful I am for all you've done for me, for all the belief you put in me, and for all the help you've ever given me with everything that happened after what I did._

_ I hope that we can put everything behind us and move on, I hope we can find peace with each other, because as much as I still care about you, I don't think I can stand losing you as a friend. _

_ Do you remember what you said once? We were sitting in the car and you asked me if when I absorbed a person did I ever take their soul too. I said I didn't know and you said you were missing some of your soul...you thought I might have some of it tucked away inside of me somewhere. Ah told you I did, but you never understood then how deeply I meant it, how deeply I felt it, and how much it hurt me when you said that it would make us soul mates._

_ You're always going to be my soul mate, Remy LeBeau, whether we're friends, or a thousand miles apart. No matter what happens, you are always going to be an important and impossibly painful but wonderful part of my life, I just hope you can find it in yourself to accept a part of me in yours, even as friends._

_ I won't expect an answer, I don't expect anything except that you'll know I'm sorry, and that I mean it. _

_ Your soul mate,_

_Rogue_

* * *

Remy stared down at the letter in his hands, he wasn't sure at what point he'd reached the end or how long he'd been sitting with it there lightly in his fingers. He'd found it in a sealed purple envelope sitting upon the cabinet beside his bed when he had arrived home from work that Thursday.

It wasn't so much a letter as it was fifteen pages of explanation and apology. The handwriting slightly shaky (he assumed from restraint on the gel ink pen) and the signature unnatural, as if it'd been the first time she'd written it in some time.

The entire letter left him feeling uneasy. Explanations were fine and dandy, but there were things _missing _from the letter, important elements that had been completely omitted and stepped around.

He supposed it were better to just ignore those _missing _things. He hadn't wanted to know any of _this_ to begin with and he certainly didn't want to know what Rogue seemed to think could possibly hurt him. This letter already hurt enough as it was.

Why couldn't he remember a lot of these incidents? So many months had passed and still details like Rogue's coming out of the evolution machine, or what caused her accident...they were completely non-existent. It was frustrating, being told these things happened but having no memory of it. He supposed a deadly kiss was liable to do that.

The very candid admissions about her first suicide attempt had left him feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Knowing how frantic she could get, he could all too well easily picture her reaching for a blade and slicing at herself. That was an image that would probably haunt him for a while.

He gave a deep sigh and put the letter back in the envelope. He supposed he should have destroyed it right then but it felt wrong to do so, like it'd be negating all it took for her to say the things that clearly she'd been struggling with for months.

She might feel better now getting it all out, he wasn't sure he ever would feel better.

Rogue's ending the letter with her admission about being soul mates worried him even more than the suicide confessions did. _Can people be friends _and _soul-mates? _He wondered. He'd always thought a soul mate was a close lover, a wife or a husband, not a friend.

_Not sure this is gonna work out,_ Remy thought miserably as he put the envelope on the cabinet; his eyes caught a small black velvet box; he'd missed it when the letter had caught his eye.

"What's this?" he wondered as he reached for it. It was then he realised he already knew exactly what it was; he'd seen the contents before when he'd been raking through Rogue and Kitty's belongings to find a stash of pills. He opened the box and stared in at the pendent and chain within, the bleeding heart necklace, it looked so new and shiny, the red gems sparkling brilliantly in the bright sun coming through the dormer window.

The necklace looked like it had barely if at _all _been worn. Remy stared down at it, trying to make sense of this.

_I gave her this,_ he realised. _That's why she's giving it to me, she's giving it back. It's a gesture, like she's accepting it's over._

These two contradictions were confusing. Soul mates sounded suggestive, and hopeful, but the necklace being handed back had an air of finality about it. He gazed at the pretty silver thing feeling there was a sense of irony here. He must have given her this at one point perhaps not because he loved her or cared for her, but because his heart bled for her.

Was her heart bleeding for him now? She certainly had admitted it was broken.

_That ain't important right now, Remy. What's important is that she's apologised, she's made a gesture, now what do _you _do._

This was a big question. What _was _he supposed to do? What was appropriate for a situation like this? Should he write her back?

_No, bad idea, I ain't that eloquent on paper. Besides...she didn't ask for a response, right? Wouldn't matter if I said anything about it or not either, she _knows _I would have gotten that letter. She won't expect anything. She wants things us to just...put things behind us, be friends. _

Remy winced. _She might be able to put it all behind her...not sure I can. _

Yes, there _was _that other problem. It wasn't the _past _between them that made Remy uncomfortable and left him feeling like he wasn't entirely convinced he could hold a friendship with her, it was the intense and uncontrollable _lust._ Saturday had been embarrassing enough when he'd had a spontaneous orgasm right at the breakfast table, but Sunday had been downright humiliating when he'd decided to take a dip out in the pool while all the others were lounging around and Rogue had come out to spend time with her friends, wearing a black swimsuit beneath a see-through blue kaftan (which he was sure belonged to Kitty rather than Rogue). The excitement of seeing what was behind that thin mesh had been enough to set his thoughts racing. He'd had to swim around for almost twenty-five minutes hiding the embarrassment that had _refused _to subside until everyone had their backs turned and he'd managed to grab his towel and dart inside.

Since Sunday he'd been avoiding even looking in Rogue's direction thinking perhaps it was simply just her _appearance _that set it off. At the dinner table on Tuesday someone had asked Rogue how training was at Muir Island. All she had said was 'it's so hard'. Somehow that had been enough to set him off, he'd spent the entire dinner picking at his food and trying to ignore the raging discomfort in his jeans beneath the table.

Yesterday evening it had been a Danger Room session. It was Rogue's first session since her return, and she had a new uniform, a black leather number with absolutely no armor; she simply didn't need it. The cut of the uniform clung to every part of her like a second skin. Watching her flying through the air, rolling and ducking and punching and slamming things down dressed like _that _had been highly erotic.

He'd admittedly expected something of the like might happen, which is why on this particular day he'd decided to wear his long leather coat (which he hadn't even known he'd had until it had come out of storage during a recent clean out). He didn't remember buying the damn thing, but it couldn't have been found at a better time as he'd been able to hide the bulge by buttoning the thing at the front to make sure it hung loose enough around him to hide any telling signs of arousal.

_Had a lot of explaining to do that day when I nearly collapsed from the heat,_ he mused. _Cold shower couldn't have come sooner that day._

He hadn't seen Rogue today but he was sure something she would do would probably set him off. It seemed impossible to avoid. He was going into a strange state of arousal, his sex drive hitting an all time high, but the problem was it was _only _in her company, only with _thoughts_ of her, and that just _wasn't _acceptable to him.

_If you're gonna be friends, you need to get this problem sorted. You can't go through the rest of your life getting a massive hard on every time you see your friend. Someone's gonna notice eventually. Anyway, you better fix it _before_ you end up having a repeat of Saturday. _

He glanced to his phone to check for messages; he'd been to see Rose on Tuesday after work and he'd gotten Rowan's number during the brief moment she'd found time to speak with him. They had sent texts to each other back and fourth a few times, it leaving him slightly apprehensive that Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

It was the first time in a long time he was sure he'd looked forward to anything. What he was most looking forward to was being _comfortable_ with Rowan. It felt that way now, he had no worries about embarrassing erections or racing thoughts with Rowan. Sexual feelings wouldn't be a problem with her.

_At least not at first,_ Remy thought dryly. _Gonna be a point somewhere down the lines it's gonna be though. She doesn't strike me as a one-night-stander, but there's a good chance she'll want somethin' eventually. Guess I'll just have to use my other talents until I find a cure for impotency._

Just as he was about to put the phone down the screen lit up with an icon claiming that a new message had arrived. He tapped the screen of the cheap smartphone and read the message as it popped up; it was from Rowan.

_ "**Hey, just wondering if U figured out what movie U want 2 watch on Sat**?"_

Remy sat thinking about this. What movie was a girl like Rowan going to want to watch. A chickflick? Pretty standard, he supposed. He could get an entire box set of them from Jean's bedroom, he was sure she wouldn't mind his borrowing them as long as he brought them back. He was sure she probably wouldn't notice it'd even gone from the stack of similar moves anyway.

_Maybe better to ask,_ he thought. _Don't want to screw this up._

**_"What do U want 2 C?"_** Remy typed in and hit send, he drew his breath and waited anxiously for the reply.

It took a couple of minutes.

_**"Goodfellas is on TV at 9pm"**,_ she text back.

Remy felt his heart leap in his chest. That there, that was a sign right there. He'd never mentioned to the girl that this was one of his favourite films.

_**"I love that movie!"**_ He text back excitedly.

_"**Me 2! :)**"_ She responded, the smiley face next to the words made him grin a little.

_"**I'll B over at about 8 on Saturday,**"_ typed in Remy, he hit send and waited.

_**"C U then**," _was her final response.

Remy put the phone down, his heart skipping a little. He wasn't sure why he felt so strangely happy. It had been a while since he'd felt this way.

_Good things are happening,_ he told himself, _Rogue apologised, we're going to put things behind us, and Rowan and me are gonna have a great night watching a good film and hopefully drinking expensive wine. Life is going pretty good. Things are looking up._

Remy just hoped things were going to _keep _looking up.

* * *

**End of Part Seven**

* * *

**Wow, Rogue writes a lengthy letter, doesn't she? LOL (all fifteen pages haha). Hopefully the re-cap of everything from the first story didn't bore too many people (there's always the option to skim over things, I suppose, haha).**

**Thanks to the awesome reviewers. Some very interesting thoughts. I quite liked Jean1's analysis of Remy's behaviour about him emulating the normal life because he's pretty much feeling defeated by his uselessness (believe me, it becomes slightly more noticeable later on, lol). Hope you're all having a good week and had a good Easter...we had a great Sunny weekend here and I got soooooooo much writing done, I got up to chapter twenty of this story written believe it or not. Hopefully more updates incoming some time soon :) **

**Anyway, off to bed I go before my Trazodone leaves me using the laptop as a pillow again, haha. Love you all!**


	8. Part 8

**Slight Return**

**Part Eight**

* * *

Rogue had awakened that Saturday morning with a start just after nine thirty am; suddenly, just as she'd felt herself awaken, there was a warm rush between her legs and she gasped, threw the covers off and made a mad dash to get to the bathroom.

Another bad period.

She groaned as she felt it spill down her bare thighs, trickling down her legs and behind her knees, she tried to walk without it getting everywhere, she looked to the floor, walking strangely with blood-soaked underwear and sticky thighs to see the drips upon the hardwood floor.

It was unfortunate at that moment Remy LeBeau had to come out of the closet leading from his attic room, it was _unfortunate_ that she hadn't seen him and tumbled right into him and that it sent them both sprawling to the floor. She heard him cry out in confusion and she felt her head slam against the hardwood floor and thanked God that her skull didn't crash right through it due to her powers.

"What the fuck-?" Remy let out a cry of surprise as he tried to get up.

"Out of the way," she pushed him aside and fought to get up, her face burning hot.

"Rogue, you're..." Remy seemed to swallow hard, "You're covered in blood..."

"Don't you think Ah know that?!" she snapped as she scrambled up and ran towards the bathroom.

"What did you do!?" he called after her.

"It's a fucking period!" she yelled after him. Was he serious? She was bleeding horrifically and he was making assumptions that this had been a _deliberate _act? Why couldn't he have at least put a _little _trust in her?

She hadn't cried for some weeks, not since a particularly bad therapy session on Muir Island when she'd had an anxiety attack when some painful things had been brought up about her feelings about Remy. But as she closed the door behind herself, she started sobbing pathetically with humiliation that Remy had caught her in that condition, that he'd _assumed _she'd attempted suicide again, _and _that she'd had to tell him _precisely _what this was.

_There's blood drops all over the goddamn floor out there...he probably saw that too...god, why did it have to be today that the period started?!_ She thought in distress as she looked down at bare legs, blood trickling down onto the white bathroom tiles. _Fuck..._

This had been a fairly regular occurrence since she'd let Remy touch her there; her periods had always been manageable until the November past, now they were always horrendous and unpredictable with crippling cramps and ceaseless blood.

She winced as she turned on the shower, creeping her way carefully to it and trying not to get blood anywhere else. She slipped off the nightgown she'd been wearing, which already had a hefty bloodstain on the backside, and threw it into the sink to soak it alongside her underwear.

_No one ever tells you periods are like this when you're thirteen,_ she thought angrily as she slipped into the shower stall and began scrubbing. Her cheeks still burned hot as she thought of Remy LeBeau out in that hallway, his face had looked red too; at least, it had seemed that way from the brief half second she'd looked at him before she'd made it to the nearest bathroom. Logic told her this was normal, that it happened to _every _woman, that there was nothing to be remotely ashamed of.

Logic however was overwhelmed by intense burning embarrassment.

It was lucky that there happened to be a box of tampons stashed under the cabinet, she stood with a wad of toilet paper between her legs following her shower, unwrapping the tampon and wincing at the thought of having to use it. They always hurt since Remy had touched her there...back in November, when he had left her partially broken. There weren't any pads handy in the cabinet she was going to have to make do for the moment and just endure the pain.

She stood dripping wet, bare naked, the bleeding stemmed for the moment. She dealt with the clothes she'd had on her, standing there for some time rinsing the bloodied nightgown and panties, complaining to herself.

_If I wasn't on anxiety medication, this would be _a lot _worse,_ she told herself, shaking her head at the situation. She was very aware she'd have been crying hysterically like a child with a broken toy by now, that she would have been hyperventilating in the corner rather than dealing directly with the problem. At least it took the edge away, at least it was something to be thankful for. For now, it made it easier to cope.

It took some moments of rinsing but most of the blood came out of both of the items eventually; there were still stains however, they would need to be properly washed.

As she stood there naked, she suddenly realised that the hand towels in the bathroom were _not _going to be large enough to wear modestly to her room. They weren't long even enough to wrap around herself.

_Fuck, why didn't I grab somethin' to wear? Jesus christ, this is humiliatin'. What do I do? Do I run across the hall butt-naked and _hope _that everyone else is still in bed or down at breakfast?_

Just as she was considering perhaps climbing out of the window and flying along the wall completely naked to get to her bedroom window which was open, there was a light knock at the door.

"You okay in there?"

Rogue turned to stare at the door, it was _Remy's _voice she heard. She put her hand to her face, her eyes tearing up with hot shame again. _Calm down, just calm down, you've gotten through worse, don't make a big thing out of this._

"Yeah," she lied after a moment of controlling her breathing. _No, Ah'm not okay, Ah'm bleedin' like a stab victim, Ah have no clothes, no underwear, and Ah can't leave the bathroom. Jesus, stop standin' here and ask him to get Kitty or somethin'..._

"Uhm..." he began, sounding strangely distressed, "it's just...that was quite a lot of blood..."

"Ah'm fine," she dried her tears on the edge of a hand towel, trying to keep her breathing controlled and relaxed, trying to avoid her chest getting tight again. How could she explain to Remy that this was completely normal?

"You need anythin'? Should I get Hank?" he asked after a moment of hesitation.

"No! Don't get Hank...just...look, can you grab me a towel or somethin'?" she asked hopefully. "I need somethin' to wear..."

"Yeah, here..." he replied after another moment.

Rogue opened the door only a tiny bit, his hand slipped through the crack with the terrycloth robe she was sure _he'd _been wearing when she'd slammed into him. _It's a wonder Ah didn't kill him goin' at that speed...it's a wonder he didn't get absorbed...one false move our bare legs could have touched...that's all it would have taken to probably kill him..._

_ No! Don't think that way, just take the damn robe and get out._

She grabbed the robe quickly and pulled it on; she was aware of how much it smelled of him, how it had absorbed the smell of all the shampoos and soaps he'd used. She couldn't help but breathe in the smell appreciatively although she had to reprimand herself for doing so. The robe was far too large on her and drowned her, she pulled it tight across her chest and tied it securely before uneasily opening the door with her wet clothing bundled up in the damp towel; Remy stood there, wearing nothing but pyjama pants looking slightly disgruntled and half-asleep still, his hair sticking up at the oddest angles. Her eyes caught a mop bucket near his feet, the mop handle propped against the wall nearby.

Her eyes fell to the floor, no spots of blood, just shining patches where water had cleaned away the mess..._her _mess. "Did you...clean that up?" she asked, her stomach churning, her heart thumping hard. She fought anxiety and the tingling in the bare fingers that were hidden in the too-long sleeves of Remy LeBeau's robe.

"Yeah," he replied, acting suddenly almost mature and oddly _professional_ about it.

"It was my mess..." she shakily reminded. He didn't seem very affected; yes, he had sounded worried about the blood but he didn't look altogether bothered by having felt obliged to clean it up.

"I clean peoples mess up for a livin'," Remy reminded, his eyes puffy and tired. His eyes examined her and she felt very conscious of how naked she was beneath _his _robe. "I've cleaned up worse. Much worse," he looked away, his expression slightly conflicted for a moment as he held the pole of the mop in front of himself.

Rogue couldn't deny that being there with him felt more awkward than it had been since the day she'd arrived back home. She wasn't sure if it was the _blood_ that left her feeling so very ill at ease, or if it was the letter she'd left in his room on Thursday that he hadn't even acknowledged since.

Rogue hadn't expected Remy would give any kind of response to the letter it had taken her days to compose. It wasn't the lack of response that was bothering her about the whole situation. It was the lack of _anything. _Not a knowing look, nothing. He acted so...innocently, as if the letter had never been received, as if she hadn't left it there with her bleeding heart necklace. She hated that he could be so very calm and nonchalant about it, pretend things hadn't happened.

_Why can't Ah be that way? Why can't Ah just not care about things the way he doesn't care? Why do Ah have to make everything so hard? S_he thought unhappily as she began the walk slowly to her room, every step with the tampon was torture and she fought to not make the pain obvious to Remy whom she was sure was watching her.

"I'll see you at breakfast," Remy said to her as she was walking away, it made her turn back and look over her shoulder at him as he went over the floor with the mop just to be sure he'd cleaned up her blood.

_How can he be so calm cleanin' up my blood like that...? _she had to ask herself. _That should be embarrassing for a guy, regardless if he cleans up shit a lot in his job. _

She wanted to thank him but she couldn't get the words out, she was too mortified and unhappy right now. She'd been feeling fine for days, vaguely upbeat, but she sensed that today was going to be a bad day...perhaps the next few if the period persisted this way.

Saying nothing, she went back to her room, and she went to find clean clothes and to swap the tampon for a pad. Already she felt the niggling cramps starting, and they told her to dress comfortably, so without even bothering to make sure if anything matched she took a pair of black jogging pants from the dresser and a long sleeved dark green t-shirt.

These clothes were slightly big on her; she'd been asked what size of clothing she was when she'd gotten to Muir Island after being told she needed work out clothes. She'd given her size but Moira had gotten confused about the difference between the American sizes and the British sizes and had come back with these. As such, her jogging pants were hanging down her hips so much that she had to pull the drawstring extra tight just to hold them up, it only made her hips look wider, made her look frumpy and unkempt.

Today, she didn't care. She supposed she'd looked far worse. She sat at the mirror and combed her hair, staring at her fuller face. She examined her sunburned cheeks and nose, which were starting to dry out a little and peel. The bruise on her head from bumping into that bridge was already looking slightly yellow; she brushed her hair in front of it, not wanting to really go into it with anyone about how it had happened, it was far too embarrassing (although perhaps not as embarrassing as bleeding all over the floor and having her ex-boyfriend clean it up for her).

She left her room and put Remy's robe, along with her nightgown, underwear, the damp towel and blood stained bedding into a washing machine in the laundry and turned the thing on before heading to breakfast. If there hadn't been blood all over the sheets and the mattress protector, she'd have simply just gotten into her loosest pyjamas and went back to bed, but that wasn't a luxury today.

It was too early to have days spent in bed; she didn't want to raise any alarms with the others. She knew they were watching her, dissecting her, calculating every move she made, wondering if and _when_ she would start to revert back to her old ways. Lying in bed all day had been one of those old habits, one of the _signs_ and it would be seen that way regardless of her period or not.

It was better to just endure it, adapt. Life goes on, that's what everyone had kept telling her. She just had to go with it, and try to work around it. _Try to keep everyone happy, it'll keep them off your back, _she told herself.

She sat at the edge of her usual chair at the breakfast table rather than directly on it. Despite she'd put on a thick absorbent pad before coming down, she still felt slightly uneasy about the possibility of leaking blood, it was something that she was ever more aware of on days like this.

_Every move, every cough, every tiny little sneeze and it's like the shower scene from Psycho,_ she thought unhappily as she spooned some scrambled eggs onto her plate.

The table was quieter at this time of year, most of the students had gone home for the summer; the ones who remained had problems at home, or had no homes to go to, such as Scott and herself. Kitty Pryde had decided to spend the summer at the mansion, Rogue couldn't fathom why she didn't want to go home as she usually did (although somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if it could be due to her previous drug problem and the reluctance to see her parents in case they might figure out the truth).

Kurt had decided to stay on too, he'd been to see his parents in Germany earlier in the summer but had come back only a week before she had. She supposed it might be more to do with obligations to the team, feeling as if he couldn't spend too much time away during the summer vacation in case something came up.

Rogue wondered how long it'd be before she would be allowed on missions again (not that she'd have gone if it happened to be today, she felt far too ill for that). Part of her was itching to try out her new powers, to see how it felt to be in the field, to be much more capable of something worthwhile.

"You okay?" asked Kitty who was chewing on fried tomatoes.

"Yeah, Ah'm fine," Rogue replied.

"You look a little drained."

Rogue caught Logan looking at her, his expression dark for a moment, he made a face and went to make himself some coffee. Rogue wondered if he sensed the blood, if he smelt it. She supposed things like that were unavoidable to a mutant with heightened senses. Did it sicken him? She sometimes wished she had the nerve to ask him about things like that but in the end found it far too difficult to get the words out. He must have been on constant alert of every female's cycle in this building, not something that would be easy to endure, she'd wager, especially if the smell was repugnant (and it was likely it would be).

"Just tired...it was too hot to sleep last night," Rogue admitted; this had been partially true. She'd had the window open all night (she hoped the Professor wouldn't find out or she was sure she'd be reprimanded later about the dangers of this), but it had done little to help cool the room. There was a fan in the room on oscillate all night but it just seemed to bring in a steady flow of hot air.

"I know. I tossed and turned all night too," Kitty sighed. Her hair had that frizzy cotton-candy look about it that it always got when the weather was humid. "I had to get up and have a shower at five am, it was so hot. My pyjamas were soaked with sweat, it was so gross," she wrinkled her nose.

"Heat didn't bother me," Remy spoke up, he was buttering a slice of toast delicately.

"Yeah, well..." Kitty wrinkled her nose, "You're used to the heat. I'm not."

"So sleep in the nude," said Remy, he took a large bite of the toast casually, "that's what I do."

Logan threw a glance towards Remy, "That's enough, gumbo. No one wants to hear about what you seep in."

"The girls do," Remy smirked to himself, his expression remaining smug as he chewed.

"I don't know _how _you can sleep like that, what if someone walks in?" Kitty made a face.

"Then it's their fault for just _walkin'_ in," he said almost pointedly. "I got a lock anyway...," he picked his coffee cup up and took a quick sip. "Trust me though, it's very comfortable sleepin' in the nude, really helps beat the heat."

Hank McCoy decided to change the subject from nudity to something more appropriate. He cleared his throat, "so...what are everyone's plans for today?" he asked, upbeat as ever.

"Sunbathing by the pool, totally chilling out," Kurt replied, looking happy about this plan.

"Sunbathing?" Rogue gave a vague laugh, "why bother? You can't tan with all that fur..."

"No," Kurt shrugged, "but the sun helps..."

"Helps with what exactly?" Remy asked curiously from across the table.

"I get itchy, hot rash with all the sweat in the summer...the sun dries the rash out and helps it heal."

"And...I'm done with the toast," Remy put down his toast, grimacing. He rubbed the crumbs away from his fingers.

"I can prescribe creams for that, you know," Hank glanced towards him, "instead of letting you lounge in harmful ultraviolet rays."

"It's more fun in the harmful ultraviolet rays," decided Kurt. "Besides, isn't vitamin D good for us?"

"Not constant exposure to it, no," Hank reminded, although even Rogue realised this advice was going to be ignored. No one wanted to be reprimanded about heatstroke, melanoma or sunburn on a day like this. People wanted to revel in the nice weather and worship the sun...and deal with consequences later.

Rogue pushed her eggs around the plate, she didn't really feel hungry, she just felt hot, sore, and as Kitty had suggested, drained.

Scott and Jean revealed they were taking a drive out to see some tourist attraction outside of town, one that only opened certain months of the year. Kitty had no plans as far as Rogue could tell but wanted to go out for a little while as she'd done very little outside of the institute in some time. Piotr intended to get his easel and paints out, the Professor had agreed to sit for a portrait for a little while. Rogue felt it would do the Professor some good to spend time with the students outside in the sun instead of cooping himself up in his office with all the paper work and phone calls it took to keep the place running.

What Rogue noticed, as everyone had admitted what their plans were for the day, Remy LeBeau had said absolutely nothing to join in and give his plans. But there was something rather reserved about his silence, guarded. Rogue tried to push the thoughts aside, if he had plans and didn't want to say, that was his business, she wasn't going to push him for details, especially not when he'd spent his morning cleaning up her blood. He deserved some secrets, she supposed, if he was going to keep _hers._

_Maybe he has no plans, maybe that's what bothers him. Maybe Ah should try to...make effort, to try and be a friend, so that we do put it all behind us and just start fresh. But...what if he doesn't want anythin' to do with me? He didn't say anything after the letter that I practically _poured _my heart out to him with. He could have at least said something...like 'that's fine', at least it'd give some indication he's okay with things._

As breakfast ended, Rogue began to help clear plates away with Scott, she glanced down to Remy who was doing something on his cheap looking smart phone.

"What you got planned today, swamprat?" she asked, trying to sound far more upbeat than she felt.

Remy glanced up at her, his face unreadable, "goin' out for a bit."

"Goin' where?" Rogue queried, fighting to sound casual and breezy.

"Got a friend I need to see."

"What friend?" Rogue blurted.

He switched his phone off, "what is it with you people? Why is it so damn unbelievable that someone like me could have a friend?" he demanded. "I have a friend, lets just leave it at that. Not everythin' has to be confined to the institute for fucks sake."

_"Language!"_ Ororo called room as she was scrubbing out the pan the eggs had been scrambled in.

Remy winced, "sorry," he grumbled, he looked away from Rogue, his face darkening.

"Ah didn't mean it to sound that way, Remy, Ah just meant...Ah didn't you had friends outside of here..."

"Well I do, okay?" he asked, his voice softening a little, "and I gotta go see them."

Rogue watched as he left, her stomach twisting a little at how he'd spoken to her. She supposed she couldn't blame him, she'd practically run him down in the hall, she'd left him to clean up her blood, and she'd taken his robe from him and now she'd interrogated him to boot. She didn't expect him to be in the best moods today.

_Just leave him be, let him do whatever he wants and don't ask any more questions. If he wants to tell you things, that's his business._

With a sigh, Rogue wondered what _she _was going to do, what was she capable of doing other than sitting curled up on the couch trying to move as very little as possible and hope to god her bleeding would stop. Actually, the thought of that sounded rather appealing. Ice cream, soda, DVDs in the rec room since everyone else would be outside enjoying the sun...that sounded like a way to spend a bad period and make it vaguely enjoyable.

"Do we have any ice cream?" Rogue asked, trying not to be too hopeful about it.

"No," Logan remarked. "You guys tore through the last of it on Thursday like a pack of ravenous hyenas on a fallen antelope."

Rogue remembered that. It was always that way when there was ice cream in mansion, it rarely ever got to sit in the freezer longer than a day before it was devoured. Especially during the hotter months of the year. "Crap."

"You just had breakfast," Logan remarked, "and you didn't even _eat _much of that."

"It's too damn hot," Rogue complained, "Ah want some ice cream."

"I'm running to town, need to get a new charger for my tablet, they break so easy," Kitty smoothed her slightly frizzy hair back from her face, "want me to grab some ice cream while I'm out?"

"Yeah," Rogue nodded. "That'd be great."

"Why don't you go along?" suggested Hank, "get out of the house. You haven't left the grounds since you got back."

Rogue glanced at Hank questioningly. Was she really ready for that? Was she ready to go into the big wide world again without proper supervision, without an instructor there in case something should happen? What about the period?

"Yeah," Kitty agreed, "if you like we could like, go see a movie. There's a Ryan Reynolds movie in right now..."

"Ew, no," Rogue made a face.

"What's wrong with Ryan Reynolds?" Kitty asked, her eyes wide, "He's totally hot."

"Uh...no, he's _not..._" Rogue remarked. Perhaps it was just that sometimes in a certain light Scott reminded her of Ryan Reynolds. Admitting Ryan Reynolds was attractive to her would be as bad as admitting somewhere in the back of her mind she still felt a slight attraction to Scott. She'd rather not go to that place.

"Yes he is," grumbled Kitty.

"No way, and besides...hot movie theatres full of noisy teenagers in the summer isn't my idea of a good Saturday...I prefer the movie theatre when it's quieter, and you can actually _hear _the movie," she put the last of the plates down on the counter.

"Why don't we go to the mall, then?" Kitty asked, "clothes shopping..." she eyed up Rogue's poorly sized attire disapprovingly. "You really need some new clothes..."

"Ah don't need any clothes," Rogue commented, "besides, Ah don't feel like goin' out right now..."

_ Sittin' in a car...that's a bad idea, what if the blood leaks, stains the car seats? And what if Ah'm out and it starts soakin' through my pants? Ah can't take that chance...it'd be too humiliatin'. Ah don't want to have to carry a change of clothes just in case, that'd look a little suspicious, Ah don't want to have to explain that off..._

"Rogue, it's not about the clothes," Hank said gently, "It's about letting yourself get out there again...Dr. MacTavish said it's part of your recovery that you should try to take some time outside with your friends."

Rogue spied Logan giving Hank a look, a very tiny almost non-existent shake of his head. She realised Logan knew, he _understood_ this wasn't about _not _wanting to be out there, it was about not wanting to be out there while bleeding heavily and cramping up_._

Hank dropped the subject immediately, his eyes questioned Logan but nothing else was spoken. Rogue turned and left the room without a word wondering if when she was gone Logan and Hank would whisper about it with each other and her shameful little secret would be shared.

A moment later she heard Kitty's light quick step following fast at her heels.

"You sure you don't want to come along?" Kitty asked, "it'd be good to get out for a little while, you know."

"Ah know that," Rogue folded her arms casually as she walked along the long hall with Kitty, "But...right now...it's not the right time."

"Still too anxious?"

"No...it's not that, believe me," Rogue shook her head.

"So, what then?"

"Ah don't want to talk about it..."

"There's nothing to be afraid of by going out there," Kitty tried.

"Ah don't want to," Rogue responded.

"Oh come on, why not?"

"Crimson tide," Rogue remarked quietly, she hated admitting it even to other girls, didn't matter if they understood, didn't matter if _they _had it too and knew all too well how it felt, it was embarrassing regardless. There was no option but to admit it though.

"Ohhhh," Kitty nodded. "It's still bad?"

"Yeah, it hasn't changed since...well...you know," Rogue rubbed her arm absently.

"Oh," Kitty said, sounding sympathetic, "okay...but...when you're better, we should, you know, hang...like _normal _people."

Rogue gave a vague laugh, "Normal people? Since when have either of us _ever _been normal."

"Never, I guess," Kitty shrugged, "but doesn't mean we can't pretend to be from time to time, does it."

Rogue was sick of pretending, she wanted to not pretend to be normal, but to just _be _it. She supposed pretending was all she was capable of though. All the same, she wasn't in the mood to do even that right now. Pretending took too much effort, and all the effort she had was being conserved for sitting and watching DVDs and avoiding too much movement.

"Is the uhm...the anxiety and depression thing still that bad that you don't like company?" Kitty asked quietly and carefully.

"Ah've been around people all week, Ah haven't went off on my own once, have Ah?" Rogue pointed out.

"Well...no," Kitty realised.

"Right now...Ah just...feel off, you know? Ah want to sit and eat ice cream and be on my own and watch movies. Ah'm _allowed _to have time on my own again. There's nothin' wrong, other than a bad period, that's all. Ah ain't _stressed out, _Ah ain't _sad..."_

_ "_Not even after the letter?" Kitty asked. Rogue had forgotten she'd mentioned to Kitty that she'd put the letter in Remy's room.

"Look, what Remy decides to with what Ah told him in the letter is up to him," Rogue shrugged, "Ah said everythin' Ah had to."

Kitty shoved her hands in the pockets of her pink cardigan casually, walking at Rogue's side slowly, "do you feel better?"

Rogue had to think about this, she wasn't sure she _did _feel better. She was glad she'd said the things that needed to be said, glad that she'd told him some of the things that she hadn't been able to months ago. But she didn't feel _better._ "Would it sound strange if Ah said that...Ah feel sort of...numb?"

Kitty tilted her head curiously, "Is that the meds that do that?"

"Ah'm not sure," Rogue confessed, "Maybe. Sometimes Ah think it is. Ah mean, the feelin's are all there, everythin' as it should be, Ah still love him, Ah still feel sad, but...nothin' feels worse...nothin' feels hopeless any more but Ah can't tell if that's the meds, or just the therapy. Ah don't think Ah'm meant to ask those kinds of questions, Ah think Ah just have to soldier on and hope that one day Ah'll be askin' myself why Ah _ever _fell for Remy at all. Ah fell in love with the guy, now Ah have to figure out how to fall _out _of love with him."

Kitty swallowed hard, "that's hard."

"Yeah."

"Any advice on how to go about that?" Rogue stopped at the rec room door. She supposed if anyone would have advice on how to get over the loss of a relationship, it would probably be Kitty. She _too _had had her heart broken, albeit under different circumstances. She seemed to be doing fine now, as far as Rogue could tell.

Kitty paused, and thought for a moment. "You never get over it. It just...gets a bit easier every day. Sometimes you have to be happy with being on your own...instead of expecting someone else can make you happy."

"You think Ah can be happy?" Rogue gave an ironic distant laugh. No she couldn't be _happy, _she could be moderately content, that was about the best she could do in this situation, and that would be enough. She was _fine_ if she could stay moderately content for the rest of her life. If she could get to the point to being moderately content without therapy, dieticians and _medication, _then she might even be even _quite _content.

"At least you can still be friends with him, Rogue. That's more than I can be with Lance after what he did to me," Kitty pointed out.

"Sometimes bein' friends is even harder," Rogue confessed.

Kitty tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, "It's better than nothing, Rogue," she admitted. "Sometimes friends can be _all _you need, you know? I don't think I'd have gotten through my break up if it hadn't been for my friends, if I hadn't had you to take care of."

Rogue stared across at Kitty, this was something she had never known. How could that be? How could it be possible that _her _needing taking care of helped with that kind of a breakup?

A strange uncomfortable laugh escaped Kitty's rose petal lips and she sighed, "but...my best advice would be...when friends aren't enough...and you aren't sure you can go on, you have to tell people...don't ever try to find the solution yourself...or you might just end up doing what I did..."

Rogue nodded. That was _definitely _a place she didn't want to go. Four months ago when she'd hit her darkest she might have welcomed that kind of downfall. She didn't want to ever think like that again.

* * *

**End of Part Eight**

* * *

**Another short update but one nonetheless. I'm sure anyone who has ever had a bad period or suffered with dysfunctional uterine bleeding probably sat there sympathising with poor Rogue in this chapter, lol. It may seem unnecessary to have such incidents in the story at times, but I like my characters to be real as possible, with _normal _functions (to me it's what makes a character relatable, lol).**

**Thanks to all for the wonderful reviews. I'm glad you all liked the letter and were glad Remy _actually _took the time to read it through as well, lol. Even that surprised me when I wrote it (and I was the one writing it). Anyway, off watch more Bates motel before passing out time. More to come hopefully by the weekend :) Love you all :)**


	9. Part 9

**Slight Return**

**Part Nine**

* * *

"Hey, beautiful," Remy cooed as he met with Rose in the poorly kept gardens at the back of the retirement home. She was sitting under an awning on a deck chair, a magazine dangling from her old fingers.

Rose raised her eyes to him, "where have you been all week?"

"I came to see you on Wednesday, don't you remember?" he asked gently as he dropped into the seat opposite her.

She ran her hand through the poorly cut bangs of her hair and gave a sigh, "what day is this, Dillon?"

"It's Saturday, Grandma," Remy sighed softly. The signs weren't good; she still thought he was her grandson, and she didn't even know what day it was.

"Already?" she asked, "wasn't it Saturday yesterday? Maybe you have it wrong, Dillon..."

"I could be wrong I guess?" he asked. He knew better than to test her on who was right and who was wrong, the Wednesday visit had been a rather argumentative one over what year it was. _Let her think what she wants, she won't remember anyway. Just try to keep her happy and entertained for the hour,_ he warned himself. _That's why you're here, to make her happy._

"The nurses are hiding my medication again," sighed Rose, "and old Robbie keeps coming into my room at night..."

"Old Robbie?" Remy asked curiously.

"He likes to run around naked you know...not very nice to look at."

_That would be Mr. Dixon then, _Remy thought wryly, "what's wrong with a little nudity? You must have seen some in your time."

"Oh, I don't _deny _it, Dillon, but a lady doesn't _discuss_ things like that with gentlemen, and especially not a gentleman who is her _grandson._"

"Sorry, Grandma," Remy sighed.

"Why didn't you bring your girlfriend with you?"

"I told you I don't have a girlfriend..." he reminded. Yes, Wednesday had _also _been full of this repetitive conversation. He wasn't sure where she got the idea that he had a girlfriend, only that she seemed to have a recollection of him visiting and bringing a girl with him. Perhaps that was Rowan, he wasn't positive. Perhaps she misunderstood that Rowan had been the nurse, not his girlfriend.

_Course if I play my cards right, that could always change, _he realised.

"How old are you now, Dillon?"

"Twenty-two," he replied calmly.

"By the time your grandfather was your age, he was high up in the company and we had a child and a house. You need to get your life together, Dillon, before it's too late."

"I'm only twenty-two," he stated again. He couldn't imagine why she seemed to think twenty-two was the equivalent to being nearly forty. He supposed things had been different in her day.

"That's no excuse. You need to settle...I'd like to see great-grandchildren before I die."

"Don't talk about dying, grandma," he took a hold of her old papery hand and squeezed gently, "I don't like to think about it."

"You're a sweet boy. A good boy," Rose sighed, "But you're not happy, and I don't like to see you unhappy."

"I'm fine," Remy responded. Why was it he felt Rose could see through him like he was made of glass? "Don't worry about me, I'm _always fine._"

They spoke for the rest of the visit, Rose talking about her days as a young woman; she talked about another son she'd had, one who had apparently died in a car accident ten years before her son (Dillon's father) had even been born. Remy felt more and more depressed every time he talked to her, this woman had an immensely tragic life it seemed and it seemed to only get more tragic day by day as her mind began to fail her more and more.

As much as he had enjoyed talking with her (despite the depressive subject matter) he was glad when the visit ended and he had to go. He was glad that on his way out, he happened to run into Rowan who was in the middle of pushing a resident in a wheelchair towards the common room.

"Hey," Remy said brightly, his day lighting up a bit at seeing her smiling freckled face.

"In seeing Rose?" Rowan asked.

"Yeah, just spent an hour with her out in the gardens...she's...talkative today."

"Really?" Rowan asked, "she's barely said a word all week..."

"She says you've to stop hiding her medication," Remy smirked.

"She forgets she takes them," Rowan explained, "she thinks we're trying to play games with her to send her over the edge."

"You should maybe keep an eye on Mr. Dixon at night," Remy remembered, "Rose seems to think he's coming into her room."

"That's a possibility, he does wander about from time to time," Rowan confessed, "I'll have the night nurse keep an eye out."

Remy's eyes dropped to the resident in the wheelchair who sat between them, barely seeming to be conscious.

"Is she all right?" he asked, gesturing to the old woman who nearly seemed to be bald.

"She's medicated...for pain," Rowan explained, "It makes her a little...spaced. She probably doesn't even know we're here..."

Remy hovered for a moment, this place made him so reluctant to hit any kind of age past sixty-five. _If I ever get to sixty-five, I'm gonna kill myself, there's no way I'm turnin' out like any of these poor people, _he thought darkly. He decided a change of subject was in order, something to help brighten his mood, "so...you're...still okay with tonight, right? Me coming over?"

"Yes, absolutely," Rowan nodded. "I live on Elm street, apartment 9B."

"Elm street, huh? Freddy visit often?"

"Huh?" Rowan blinked.

"You know, that horror movie, Nightmare on Elm Street? Freddy Krueger? With glove with the knives for fingers?"

"Oh..." Rowan mouthed, "I don't like horror movies."

Remy gave a vague laugh, "I...never used to. Lately I've been watching them though...there's some pretty good ones. The oldest ones are the best."

"I'll take your word for it, I just can't watch that guff," Rowan smirked, "anyway, I better get back to work. I'll see you tonight though, for the movie..."

Although his mood was still somewhat dark, he felt cheered up by Rowan's brief company. At least he had something to look forward to tonight.

He drove home in Logan's Jeep, listening to the radio and even singing along a little (as badly as he sang). The mansion was quiet, everyone seemed to be enjoying the day outside it seemed and he supposed he should try to join them and make an effort to be social.

But first he had something to deal with.

After getting a drink of water from the kitchen, he headed towards the Professor's office and he knocked, waiting for the invite. No response. He quietly and carefully turned the handle and glanced into the office to find it quiet, no one in there, the window behind the Professor's desk shut, the office stifling hot with summer heat.

He seemed to remember vaguely something being mentioned at breakfast about the Professor going to sit for Piotr for a portrait, and so, he went off outside to look, finding them in the rose garden not too far from where the pool and the rest of the students seemed to be hanging out.

It didn't matter how warm it was outside, the Professor was _still _in a three piece suit. Remy thought that absurd, the man must have been sweating under all that expert tailoring. Piotr was standing by his easel, a charcoal delicately poised between his large fingers, his focus intense on the Professor's face.

"How's the portrait goin'?" Remy asked casually as he moved around to see the portrait, the picture looking slightly crude in it's early stages.

"Fine," said Piotr, "Professor is very good at being still..."

"When you are confined to a wheelchair permanently, I assure you, it is no difficult task to sit still," the Professor commented, his mouth barely moving. I think I've dozed off twice with my eyes open...perhaps I shouldn't be praised for my posing."

Remy smirked just a little and left to go squat by the Professor's chair, hoping he wasn't getting in the way of anything Piotr might be putting in, "got a favour to ask..."

"No," the Professor said, not even throwing a glance in his direction.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," Remy raised an eyebrow.

"You know the rules and _favours,_ Remy, and I've given you a plenty of favours as it is. You _'borrow' _everyone's cars without asking, you skip out on doing laundry...and I ask people to look the other way."

"I do laundry at work all day," Remy complained, "and I told you about the car situation..." he added.

"And I did tell you that if you want money towards the repair of your bike you are more than welcome to _ask_. Unless of course, this is the favour you had in mind..."

"No," Remy said quietly, he looked over his shoulder, he felt very self-conscious of having to ask, especially when for all he knew Rogue was nearby, or, that someone nearby may _tell _her about what they might hear.

"Then what?" the Professor sighed.

"I...need a little leeway with the curfew."

"Oh?" asked the Professor, his eyes turning towards Remy.

Remy lowered his voice a little more, and he leaned closer to the Professor, "I...uhm...have a date."

"A date?" the Professor turned suddenly to look at him.

"Sssht!" Remy hushed him, "I don't want everyone knowin'..."

"Oh..."

"This date...it's not with _anyone _we know here...you know? It's...with a townie..."

"I see," said the Professor, nodding a little.

"So...I'd appreciate it kept quiet just now."

"Who is this _townie_?" asked the Professor.

Piotr spoke up, clearly he had been listening in, "she is girl who texts him several times a day."

Remy threw his eyes up to the large Russian and frowned. Since when had _he _been noticing things like that? "You been spyin' on me or something?"

"You think I do not know when you are _on the chase_?" Piotr pointed the charcoal at him almost in an accusatory manner.

Rolling his eyes, Remy turned back the Professor, "she's an assistant head nurse at the retirement home in town, met her when I returned an escapee last Friday."

"I see..."

Remy lowered his eyes, his cheeks hot with the sun, or was that just the embarrassment of having to talk to the Professor about it? To talk to _anyone_ about it? "She's the first girl I've really been interested in since I got out of the coma..." he began, "she's...funny, she's...you know, pretty, all the good stuff..."

"Big knockers," said Piotr in a mutter, the comment even catching the Professor by surprise. This wasn't Piotr's usual way of talking.

Remy frowned again at Piotr, "are you _sure _you're not _spying _on me or something?"

"Not at all. I know your type," Piotr responded.

It was hard to fathom why Piotr seemed to disapprove of the idea. He seemed strangely angry about it, his eyes dark, his brows knitted into a frown. Remy pushed away the feeling that he was being judged and turned to look back to the Professor.

"So...is there any way I can, uhm...get away with this curfew thing?"

"Remy..." the Professor sighed.

"Look, I'm twenty-two years old...it's _Saturday..._if push comes to shove, I just won't _come home_ at all tonight, if that would make you happy."

The Professor looked strangely displeased with that thought, Remy had meant it to be that way. The Professor would rather have him wandering in past curfew than be out all night sleeping around.

"My problem," said the Professor, "is that the _others_ would find out."

"I'll be quiet," Remy promised, "Already thought it through. After dinner, I'll go to my room after tellin' the others I'm goin' to bed. I'll get ready, turn the TV on loud enough so it can be heard through the door, and I'll lock it on my way out. I'll make sure _no one _sees me leavin'...I'm pretty good at avoidin' bein' caught on camera you know if any of them happen to be hangin' around the war room lookin' at the security footage..."

"And what about your _return_?" asked the Professor.

"I'll get the bus to down the street, I'll walk the rest of the way up so I'm quiet...no one will notice a thing."

"And will you be _drinking_ on this date?"

"Maybe," Remy chewed the inside of his cheek, "but I won't be getting hammered."

Professor Xavier looked doubtful, his blue eyes suspicious. Remy couldn't blame him, he supposed, he'd given him every reason to distrust him in the past.

"Professor...I _like _this girl, I don't want to be blacking out or anything. Maybe I'll have a glass or two of wine...which reminds me..." Remy forced a dazzling smile and tried to sound as upbeat as he possibly could, "is there any chance I could maybe, uhm...pick up a bottle of wine from your cellar?"

The Professor gaped at him, "How did you find out about that? Have you been snooping around looking for hidden passages?"

"Found it completely by accident, I swear," Remy crossed his heart, "no one else knows, no one was around and I didn't tell a soul. And I ain't touched anything in there either, all I did was have a quick look and left the room, that was all."

The Professor grunted, "I may have to put a lock on that passage now."

"You can trust me, I ain't much of a wine drinker anyway," Remy replied.

Professor Xavier frowned, he still didn't trust this entirely. Remy was positive in a few days he'd find that passage was locked in some way or another.

"So can I take just _one _bottle? I'm not suggestin' I take anythin' that's expensive or anythin' with a decent vintage, just...you know, one of the cheaper bottles...I know what to look for."

"What, you are becoming cheap date now?" asked Piotr irritably, his hand moving deftly across the portrait.

Remy glared at his friend, "I got no _money,_ I'm broke until pay day, and that's still a week away...I spent all my money on gas and lunch this month."

"Then perhaps you should not be on date if you cannot afford to be on one," Piotr uttered.

_What the fuck is with him?_ Remy thought, getting more and more frustrated with this conversation and the constant picking that Piotr was making.

"You may take a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the top of the rack. Not more than a single bottle, and I _will _be checking. I have a very detailed account of exactly what is in the wine cellar," the Professor warned, "and if you _do_ come home absolutely intoxicated, making a scene...I _will_ throw you out regardless of you having somewhere to go or not. I cannot afford for your bad behaviour to set an example for my younger students, and I do not want to endanger them either..."

Remy sighed, "I know I've done some crap things in the past, Professor, I _know _I've disappointed you but...I'm really tryin' to be a _good _person here. I've done all you asked, I've gotten up at insane hours to help on missions, I've trained in every Danger Room session you've set, and other than the laundry I skip out on, I've took on _every _chore that was asked of me – I've even done some of Jean's chores when she's been too busy. To top it all off I've even paid for more gas on the cars than I even use to the point where I'm flat broke. All I'm askin' for is just a _little _faith here."

"If you can prove that you are ready to begin behaving responsibly like an adult, then I will put my faith in you," the Professor admitted, "But not until. If you can do so, perhaps I will loosen the curfew for you in future. But only _if,_ and that is all."

Remy squeezed the Professor's arm affectionately, "thanks," he said with an enthusiastic smile.

"Have fun on your date," muttered Piotr.

Standing up, Remy drew his breath and sighed, "Pete...can we talk?"

Piotr gave a strangely petulant shrug, and put down his charcoal. Remy led the way to a quieter part of the garden where there were no students nearby and the Professor would be _far _out of earshot (at least he hoped so).

"What the hell is your problem?" Remy asked irritably.

"Problem?" asked Piotr innocently.

"You're actin' like a brat. What gives?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Piotr folded his large muscular arms.

"You've _never _bothered about the way I date before...you've never acted like this. Why now?"

Piotr frowned, "do you really want to know?"

Remy folded his arms too, feeling very inferior to the larger boy, "think I better."

"You are giving _ no thought_ to Rogue."

Remy snorted, "what's Rogue got to do with this? She's not my keeper, and I'm not hers. Rogue can do whatever she wants, I can do whatever I want. We're not an _item,_ and we haven't been – _clearly – _for a very long time."

"Are you trying to hurt her?" Piotr asked carefully.

"Why would I try to hurt Rogue?" Remy demanded.

"Because she hurt _you._"

"She didn't hurt me," Remy lied. Yes, she had. She had hurt him with accusations that her problems had been his fault. That hurt. It hurt that when she'd attempted to stab herself in the eye _that _had been his fault too because he'd been unable to love her the way she wanted him to. But this wasn't about hurting Rogue. Hurting Rogue had _never _been even part of the equation.

"When she finds out-" Piotr began.

"Why does she need to find out? I'm going on a _date,_ I'm not getting married in Vegas."

"She will find out eventually."

"Yes, but...eventually. And right now, all it is is a date, that's all, there's nothin' more to it than that..."

"But there _is,_" Piotr responded, "I can see that you like this girl...this...this..." he faltered, he hadn't even asked her name.

"_Rowan,_" Remy spoke up.

"This Rowan," Piotr finished, "you spend all your free time checking your phone, you _smile_ when you get a message."

"So...?"

"This is not like the other girls you have gone out with...the ones you bed on one date and drop like garbage the next day," Piotr pointed out, "you _care_ about this girl."

Remy shrugged, "I don't know about that. I like her...that's all. We get along real well, and I want to get to know her better...so?"

"It's going to hurt Rogue. Your having a one night stand would be bad enough if Rogue found out, but to start _dating_? To take on a _girlfriend? _This would hurt her very much..."

"I don't _want _to hurt her, but what choice do I have?"

"There are always choices."

"What am I supposed to do?" Remy asked defiantly, "just go through the rest of my life never being with someone, never having a life because I had a past with a girl I don't even remember much of?"

"No," Piotr responded, "I did _not _say that."

"Then what...?"

"You have not given it enough time...Rogue is still very fragile...you will break her like glass if you do not be careful."

"I don't intend to break her, Pete, which is why I don't want her to find out about this," Remy assured, "look, I care about Rogue as much as everyone else does. I'm sorry things didn't work out, but...that's just the way it is. I'm not gonna go through the best years of my life not living just because of a past relationship. _None of this_ is my fault...why are you acting like I'm to blame?"

"Because you are being a _dick,_" Piotr snapped.

Remy gaped at Piotr, it was so rare the boy got angry with him, and seeing it now was not very encouraging, especially considering his date was only a few hours away. This was going to overshadow the whole thing like a rain cloud.

Piotr continued, "you are not considering anyone's feelings but your own, and above all you are completely ignoring how you feel about Rogue."

Remy snorted. Where did Piotr get the impression he felt anything for Rogue except friendly affection? "I don't feel anythin' about Rogue except pity and friendship," he admitted truthfully.

"You look at her the way you used to," Piotr confessed, he cracked his neck a little and shifted from foot to foot.

"And what way would that be?" Remy asked stubbornly, as far as he was aware he hadn't looked at Rogue in any particular way.

_ Unless he's picked up on the fact that I get turned on by her, then that's a different kettle of fish altogether_.

It bothered Remy that if Piotr had seen these things, who else might have? He'd always prided himself on being able to keep on a poker face, but lately it seemed that it was slipping and he was being caught on every bluff.

"The way you did when we all lived at the warehouse, the way you looked at her when you were hopelessly in love."

"But I'm not hopelessly in love," Remy shrugged, "sorry, but that's just how I feel. Look, I get you think that I'd be better off with Rogue, that we're made for each other or some bullshit. The bad part is for a minute I even thought about trying to _fake _my way through a relationship with Rogue just to try and keep her happy, to try and keep _everyone _happy. I can fake a lot of shit, Pete, but...there's no romantic feelings there at all for Rogue. I couldn't even _fake _it if I tried let alone actually _feel _somethin' genuine like that for her."

"Could have fooled me," Piotr commented, "you go around like an awkward school boy whenever she is in the room."

"Yeah, well, you'd expect that after all she put me through. It's just hard feelin's is all," Remy pointed out. "Doesn't mean I love her."

"I think you are rushing this date...you should give things a chance here...spend time with Rogue, try to-"

"Try to _what,_ Pete? What kind of relationship am I going to have with a girl who can't even touch me?"

"And this is what it boils down to, isn't it?" Piotr gestured wildly, "You are willing to overlook who is right for you because you are afraid you _won't _get sex."

Remy blinked, he couldn't respond. He wasn't sure if it was accurate or not. It was a factor yes, but it wasn't completely about that.

Piotr continued, his expression suddenly conflicted, "but you will _not _get sex either way...as you are still suffering with that problem of yours, are you not?"

"No," Remy lied. Okay, so it was partially a lie, did getting aroused by Rogue count? At least it was a step in the right direction, at least it was something. "In fact, I had a hard on this morning at breakfast," he retorted. Piotr wasn't likely to know that it had been due to his racing thoughts of Rogue, was he? "I even got off all the way last Saturday."

"That's funny," Piotr shook his head in a strange sort of disgrace as he passed by Remy intent on leaving.

"What is?" Remy stopped him.

"That the moment Rogue comes back, suddenly you find yourself on the mend."

Remy looked away, "coincidence."

"You better hope so," Piotr responded, "or your date with this...Rowan girl...it will not go well for you."

"I'm not gonna go that far Rowan right now," Remy admitted truthfully.

"Is that because you don't _want _to, or because you _can't?" _asked Piotr almost smugly.

"Look, I get it, you're trying to protect Rogue," Remy uttered, "but-"

"I am _trying _to protect you," Piotr retorted coolly. "You are making a huge mistake, my friend, and I don't want to see you do that."

"I don't need protecting," Remy admitted, "I'm a big boy, Pete. Perfectly capable of handlin' my shit."

"Then handle it. But when it all goes wrong, I do not want to hear about it," Piotr grumbled, and he left it at that as walked away.

Remy sighed and sat upon a nearby stone bench, shaking his head at the whole argument. It was very unlike his friend to take this attitude with him, and it left him feeling very defeated.

_Why can't he just be happy with me? Why can't he be pleased I'm tryin' to get out there and date a nice girl for once? He didn't even ask what she was like, he just got pissed that she wasn't Rogue. Jesus, what business is it of his anyway? I'm not allowed to pry in _his _bullshit with Kitty, why does he get the right to complain about my life?_

Remy sighed as he let his fingertips graze a perfect blood red rose on the bush nearby. _What did he mean that he was trying to protect me? What do I need protecting from? From a nice girl who could really be good for me? It's not like I'm makin' a mistake here, everything my gut is telling me doesn't say 'mistake', it says that I'm goin' in the right direction..._

Right now, the right direction felt to be Rowan. And that was the direction he was determined he _would _go in.

* * *

**End of Part Nine**

* * *

**Weeeeeeee another update. Up to part twenty-two now (two pages in, yay), and hoping to get some more updates put up by next week. Thanks to all for the super reviews. Interesting thoughts, especially the one about Rogue's massively embarrassing periods. Who knows, maybe there's a link to her evolution for all we know, ;) After all, Rogue did change somewhat physically from her exposure to it (no one has ever mentioned if they've noticed or not but I describe Remy frequently noting that her eyes seem much _greener_ than they did before the evolution, lol). **

**Next chapter will be focusing on Remy's date with Rowan, I'm not sure if anyone will be in a hurry to read THAT one haha. **

**Anyway thanks for all the reviews and for the interest in the story. It's been keeping me super motivated (working on it every night lately, even forgoing precious _sleep_ to work on it!). You guys all rock. Have an awesome weekend :)**


	10. Part 10

**Slight Return**

**Part Ten**

* * *

Rogue had been just about to start her way up the grand staircase from the foyer leading up to the second floor when the doorbell had rang loudly and insistently. She'd been about to head upstairs for an early night, she felt particularly drained due to her period, and all she wanted to do was curl up into bed with a book and her iPod and try to ignore the pain.

Her foot had barely touched the step as the bell went and she sighed, turned and made her way towards the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole. Someone was always forgetting their key, and it was after eight pm so the door was bound to be locked.

As she opened the door, she had almost begun to ask whomever it was if they'd forgotten their key, for it could _only _be this, they rarely had visitors at the institute, and if they did it was _never _at this hour. However, the people on the other side of the door were not at all whom she had expected to see.

Wanda Maximoff was staring right at her with her intense blue eyes somewhat obscured by locks of black hair streaked with intense pillar-box red; in the poor lighting from the porch they seemed like two perfect tanzanites staring at Rogue and they made her grow colder. Behind Wanda and a little to her left was Magneto, and Rogue's stomach flipped, her chest felt immediately tight.

It was hard looking at the both of the standing there, feeling unable to respond as if there were suddenly no air in the room.

"Ah...Ah..." she somehow managed, her limbs growing stiff, her fingers beginning to tingle, the nerves in her face popping like millions of tiny champagne corks.

"I hope we're not too late," said Magneto, his voice polite and gentle. Wanda said nothing, just stood there looking oddly out of place, her hands in the pockets of a dark red hooded sweatshirt, her head slightly low. Rogue was having a hard time focusing, but it almost seemed as if Wanda's cheeks were hot with pink. It may have just been too much blush, that was _always _a possibility. This girl didn't embarrass easily.

"Too...late..." Rogue stammered, not sure exactly what he meant. She backed away a little, trying to calm herself. She was going numb from head to toe, her mind was clouding with panic.

Magneto gently urged his daughter in and followed, a suitcase in hand, a cardboard box beneath the other arm. Rogue stood, stammering, not sure what to say or how to react to this, all she could do was try to fight it and she was _not _having much success.

"Rogue, you're looking very well indeed," Magneto complimented, as casually as if they were meeting at a cafe by accident, not as if he had just practically barged his way in with his daughter.

Rogue could find no words, she felt overwhelmed with nausea and despair. It didn't matter that she had made peace with the fact Magneto's part in her condition had been her _own _doing, it didn't matter that he had _apologised _and that somewhere in the back of her mind she'd forgiven him. He was _standing _there, and it brought up so _many _unhappy things for her that her only reaction was but to fall into the pit of blackness she'd been dragging herself out of for the past four months.

"Magnus..."

Rogue spun around to see the Professor moving down the hall in his chair, his expression clouded with confusion.

"I'm sorry we have arrived so late...we had some...disagreements about what Wanda should bring," Magneto said, he momentarily gave a disapproving glance towards his daughter.

Professor Xavier's eyes went wide, then he looked away, his expression unhappy, "I, uhm..."

Rogue gaped. Was the _Professor _even lost for words? She could barely blame him she supposed, since Magneto and his daughter had just imposed themselves here with a suitcase and a box.

"You _do _remember it is tonight we agreed upon, do you not...?" Magneto asked carefully, looking dark around the eyes.

Rogue stared between them, from one to the other, stomach tight, her breath becoming shallow. What did he mean? What had they agreed on?

"I...I do remember," the Professor sighed tiredly, he rubbed at his left temple giving a light shake of his head, "it is just...I lost track of the days..."

"Professor?" Rogue asked, she felt faint, she was having a hard time making sense of any of this. Why was Wanda standing on their welcome mat with a suitcase and a cardboard box of marked 'Wanda's crap'?

_No...no, please god, no,_ Rogue begged inwardly, she held onto the banister for support.

"Charles...how could you have _forgotten...?"_ Magneto demanded.

"I have been distracted, I swear I did not forget," the Professor said guiltily. "I cannot apologise enough."

"You said Saturday..." Magneto looked a little insulted and hurt, "are you not prepared?"

Wanda stood idle, looking strange out of place, a shy and unsure expression on her beautiful pale features. Wanda's blue eyes swayed back and forth between the Professor and her father, then quite suddenly to Rogue.

Rogue felt her stomach tighten more so much that it nearly caused her pain and she put her hands – as numb they were – against her belly and tried to grip hard at the cotton of her long-sleeved t-shirt. She had half expected Wanda to give her a look of loathing. She half expected Wanda to accuse her of stealing her boyfriend.

But no, Wanda said nothing, and she gave something of a very uncharacteristic nervous smile before she dropped her eyes down to the floor, her hands clutching a backpack to her thighs.

"We have a room prepared, I have not had a chance to prepare the team for Wanda's arrival..."

_Arrival?! No! He can't be serious, he can't be. She can't live here! Not with me! Not with us...not with Remy! _Rogue thought in desperation, her hands trembling, tingling so badly that she couldn't even move her fingers any more. She dropped both hands and tried to wiggle her fingers to get the circulation going. It wasn't working. Everything felt numb and stiff as if she were turning to stone.

"Professor..." Rogue managed weakly, the word coming out a gasp, she gripped the newel post but her grip was so weak that her hand slipped and she stumbled, she hunched over, her breath starting to gasp out.

"Rogue, calm down..."

"I can't...I can't breathe..." she croaked, she felt hot tears of frustration sliding down her ice cold face, she could hear the painting and rasping of her breath as it rushed in and out far too quickly for her to feel any benefit of it.

"Magnus, take Wanda to the kitchen and wait there...please. I'll be with you shortly," Professor Xavier commanded.

Magneto decided to ignore the request, instead he moved over, placing a hand upon Rogue's shoulder, "breathe, Rogue, you know you have it in you to control this, you are strong, you are _stronger _than who you think you are..."

_Don't touch me,_ Rogue thought in panic, she pulled away, her elbow slamming into one of the rails on the staircase and breaking through.

"Go!" the Professor warned him, his eyes icy.

Rogue dropped to her knees, she felt lightheaded, everything was starting to black out. It was coming on so suddenly. She tried to think...when had she last taken the anxiety medication? Four hours ago? Six? She couldn't keep track. She felt sick to the stomach, her head was swimming.

"Rogue...listen to me..." the Professor took her hard by the shoulders and shook her a little, "try to breathe, try to _focus_ on everything you learned on Muir Island, do _not _let yourself be overwhelmed by this...you know you have the power to win."

_No,_ she thought. _Ah don't! Not for this! _

Her gasps came out as hysterical sobs, and she fought to maintain any kind of control that left her wanting to thrash and struggle in an attempt to escape the frustration and lack of oxygen.

Hank McCoy came running from down the hall; Rogue saw his portable medical kit bag swinging from his hand as he bounded towards her. "Just breathe, it's all right," Hank soothed as he led her to sit upon the bottom steps of the staircase. He opened the kit swiftly and tore a packeted hypodermic from within; she recognised the intense bright shine of Adamantium. It was one of the needles she'd become all to acquainted with on Muir Island. He had a bottle of clear liquid, and he drew from it with such expect precision. Clutching the end of the plunger between this teeth he rolled up her sleeve expertly with hands that were sheathed in some very sturdy looking latex gloves.

The pinch of the needle always came as something of a shock even after so many blood samples being taken over the past few months at Muir Island. The Adamantium needles were fine in a sense, but much thicker and sturdier than the kind she'd seen and been stuck with in her time. She saw her blood being drawn into the clear liquid in the barrel, turning it bright. The needle was uncomfortable and she fought to stay still as Hank injected whatever was in the syringe back up into her, and she gave a small gasp at the pain. Whatever it was, it stung...or perhaps that was just the needle.

"There we go...it won't be long now..." Hank soothed as he pressed a piece of cotton against the needle mark and pushed her arm up to keep it in place.

It wasn't long at all. If she'd been dizzy before it was _nothing _compared to the strange overwhelming sense of tipping over and spinning that the sedative had left her with. Her eyelids grew heavy, her breath began to slow. Her body began to sink, the tension beginning to lift, her mind feeling heavy in her skull. She fell sideways, and Hank caught her, holding her up with his large gentle hands.

"You'll feel better soon," he said soothingly.

Rogue felt her eyes closing as if they had a mind of their own, weakly, her breath still rasping as she tried to catch back all the air, she managed, "Ah was doin' so well..."

"You still are," the Professor responded softly, "I am sorry, Rogue, I take full responsibility for this. I had intended to give you ample warning about Wanda joining us..." he rubbed his head, "I got distracted, I-"

"Don't..." Rogue shook her head weakly, she forced her eyes open to stare at him, "you...you're makin' a mistake..."

"Rogue, I-"

"It's gonna _hurt _him..." she struggled to say; she felt so very weak and so _very tired. _

"Hurt him?" the Professor asked.

"_Remy..._" Rogue rasped; it was the last thing she managed to get out before everything went dim and her mind seemed to shut off completely as she fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

Remy arrived at Rowan Renz' apartment a little after eight thirty pm thanks to the buses in town having a ridiculous Saturday service that took forever to get anywhere; he supposed had the driver not been close to eighty years old with obvious vision problems, the bus actually might have arrived on time instead of half an hour late. He'd sat cursing the entire journey as the old guy had managed to hit every pothole on the poorly kept road, and had gone at such a ridiculously slow speed, Remy was convinced he could have made the journey faster by simply _walking_.

Trying to push the bad experience out of his mind, determined to _not _let it ruin his night, he took a deep breath and clutching the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in one hand, he gave the apartment door a knock with the other and waited patiently, feeling slightly apprehensive.

_First date jitters,_ he thought. _Haven't had anythin' like that before...least not that I can recall. Course it'd help if I could even remember the first date I'd ever had. _He heard the lock on the other side beginning to turn and he straightened up a little, taking in a breath. _Suppose the good thing about not remembering though is that I get to make all new first memories, that's somethin' ain't it? Just try to look to the positives and forget the negatives._

Rowan answered the door and Remy stared at the girl. Baggy comfortable jogging pants, a t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. He took a moment to drink in her image, dissecting the situation he read from it.

_Jeans and a t-shirt, not dressin' to impress, not flauntin' off her figure although she _could _have...she has a pretty nice shapely figure but she knows she doesn't need to show it. Hair up...ponytail...didn't put much effort into it, just threw it up last minute. No makeup, not even lipgloss or mascara. She's all natural, she's not tryin'. She ain't lookin' for sex tonight..._

He felt strangely _relieved_ at this thought. That was going to make things _much _easier. He wondered if this had been a casual choice of hers on a whim or if she'd _carefully _thought about how she would dress. _Could be she decided to just play down everythin' because it's the first date and it's in her home. She doesn't want to give me the wrong idea, maybe. Either way...nothin' will be happenin' except from wine and a movie. It's better that way._

_ "_Hey," he said, not having to hide how happy he felt to see her.

"You, sir, are late," she pointed at him, but she gave a slight teasing smirk.

"Yeah, it...took a while to get here," he chewed the inside of his cheek as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to fight the jitters. _Why do I feel so goddamn nervous? I've done this a thousand times...ain't nothin' to be nervous about here._

"I was watching from the window as you got off the bus across the street..." Rowan admitted, still smirking.

"Yeah, my hog is in pieces, can't afford to fix her up right now."

"You have a bike?"

"Yeah, a 1979 Harley Shovelhead," he replied, following as she led him in.

"That's pretty old," Rowan commented as she shut the door after him.

"I won it in a poker game a couple of years ago. It's always run good but it started falling apart a few months ago and I haven't been able to afford to get it fixed yet. Waiting on a few pay days to tackle the cost of the parts," he explained.

"I thought you had a car...a little blue Nissan..." Rowan admitted, taking the bottle of wine as he held it out to her.

Remy glanced around the apartment, drinking in the plain cream walls, the homely little accents like the jade green cushions, the black and white wall art and the large brown area rug. "Yeah, that's...not mine, it's a room mates car," he replied. He supposed in a sense, it was.

"Ohhh," said Rowan, "and the Jeep...?"

"I live with a bunch of people, most of them got cars, I just borrow what's available...whoever doesn't need their car that day, I take it...I don't _always_ ask permission, though," he winked.

"Well, when you get that Harley fixed up, I _definitely _want to go for a ride," Rowan stated as she moved to the kitchenette to find a corkscrew, "I've never been on a motorcycle."

"Never?"

"Never."

"You'd love it," Remy moved over slowly and took a seat a bar stool by the island counter, "wind in your hair, open road...the vibrations between your thighs..." he smirked.

"Sounds...exciting," she retrieved two wine glasses from the cabinet above the counter where her microwave was, "when you were so late, I thought you weren't going to make it, that maybe you'd changed your mind. I was almost about to text you."

"No, I just had trouble with the travel. I didn't want to drive if I'd be havin' a drink or two. I'm kind of a light weight, and the last thing I need is a DUI or endin' up killin' someone."

"Smart choice," Rowan began twisting the corkscrew into the bottle.

"You look great, by the way," Remy commented softly as he looked her up and down again while she was pulling the cork out.

"Are you serious?" she gave a disbelieving laugh, "in a t-shirt and jeans?"

_More than likely was a deliberate choice then, she wants to make sure I don't expect too much tonight,_ Remy realised.

"Yeah...I like it. Some girls try too hard, thick makeup, too much jewellery, too little clothes...it ain't necessary," he admitted.

"True. In my experience, men will stick it in _anything _as long as it's warm and wet," Rowan teased.

Remy had half expected to feel the faint stirring beneath his jeans that would usually come from such a bold comment. He felt utterly disappointed that there was nothing happening there. It wasn't that he had even _intended_ for anything to occur tonight, but the _option_ for it at least might have been nice. To at least _know _he could would have been a plus.

"But rest assured," Rowan poured him a glass, "I am not an easy date. Just thought I'd mention so we can get that out of the way."

"Believe me, I'm not an easy date either," he accepted the glass, he ran his finger absently over the rim. _Least not any more._

"Good looking guy like you? You must have plenty of opportunity."

"Not sayin' I don't," he admitted, pushing his sunglasses up his nose a little feeling slightly self-conscious of his eyes, "doesn't mean I gotta move fast though, does it?"

"I don't know what it is, but something about you almost made me think you _might _be a fast mover."

"I get that a lot," Remy responded, he gave a slightly nervous laugh.

Rowan studied him for a moment, and she reached for his sunglasses, he swiftly caught her hand.

"Don't..." he pleaded of her in his gentlest voice.

"Why? You already told me what's behind there."

"You aren't ready," he assured, "what I have behind these glasses frightens a lot of people and I don't want to do that to you. Let me just have the date to prove to you I ain't a scary guy before you see what I look like without the glasses..."

"I already know you're not a scary guy," Rowan bit her lip a little.

_I can be,_ he thought. As controlled as he was, he knew he was perfectly _capable_ of being an intimidating person. He had to wait, had to pull back just a little, give her time to adjust to the idea of his being mutant for just a little while longer before he revealed himself fully.

"What's your power, anyway...?" Rowan asked, giving up on the idea of removing his shades for now.

"At the moment, it's pretty pathetic, actually," he shrugged, "I had an...accident months back and well...my powers never quite recovered properly."

"That's...vague."

"Again, I tell you what I can do and you'll be lookin' over your shoulder wonderin' if I'm gonna use them..."

"No I won't," she laughed, "it _doesn't _bother me you're a mutant."

"I...ain't used to hearin' that," he admitted carefully, studying her warm brown eyes, "least not from people who ain't like me..."

"We're not all racist or...whatever you would call a mutant hater..." Rowan shrugged. "So come on, what's the big deal? What's your power?"

"I can...focus kinetic energy into things...objects...they explode on impact...so...I blow shit up," he replied, "or I used to be able to, before...before..."

"Before what?" she raised an eyebrow, her brown eyes were inquisitive.

"Before..." he tried, "just before," he shook his head finally.

"Is...this to do with what you told me? About your being in a coma?"

Remy had forgotten he'd told her about it, it had only ever been spoken about that _one _time. He was surprised she had even remembered about it. "Yeah, sort of," he shrugged, "it's hard to go into, and...to be honest, it's somethin' I'd really forget about. Doesn't matter."

"You sure?" she asked.

He contemplated talking about, about telling her all his insecurities about the fear he'd _never _have his powers back entirely, or that he'd be sexually broken forever more because of what Rogue had done to him. Instead, looking into Rowan's pretty brown eyes, he couldn't go into it, he didn't want to burden her with his problems, and he didn't want to burden _himself_ with reminders of them. Instead, he leaned across the counter, put his hand behind her head and pulled her towards him so he could press his lips softly against hers.

As their lips met, he heard the wine glass between him and Rowan tip, clinking as it hit the counter top; he felt the wine dribbling onto his knee.

"Oops," she moved back with a slightly nervous laugh, she picked the glass up stood it up again.

"Sorry," he laughed softly, "couldn't help it..."

"No sense in crying over spilt milk, I suppose," she shrugged, her eyes twinkling a little.

"Or spilt wine," he grinned.

"Go sit in the living room, let me clean this up and get you a fresh glass," she commanded, "movie starts soon."

"Sure you don't need a hand?"

"I got this..."

"You sure?" he tilted his head examining her in every detail, from the freckles on her nose to the slight cleft in her bottom lip.

"You clean up other people's crap all week," she smiled softly, "let someone else clean up _your _mess for a change..."

He swept his hand towards the wine glass and pushed it out of the way so he could lean across the counter (not caring if the wine slightly soaked into the hem of his shirt) so he could kiss her again, putting a hand beneath her chin. He left the kiss innocent, gentle pecks, never introducing her to the talented tongue that had left so many girls in New Orleans screaming his name in ecstasy. He trailed his kisses to her jaw and neck, he felt her hands push him back a little.

"We're getting covered in wine..." she pulled backwards and went about grabbing a wad of kitchen towel from the roll and went to mop up his mess.

Remy stood watching her for a moment. He felt good about this date; yes, he had butterflies, absolutely, but...he didn't feel remotely uneasy or nervous any more. First kiss was out of the way, other than a hiccup with the wine it had gone incredibly smoothly. And that they had both gotten out of the way that sex was _not _on tonight's menu meant there was no rush on anything. He didn't need to sit planning on how to get from point a, b and c directly to x y and z.

_This is going well,_ he thought happily as he took a seat on the couch; he deliberately took the seat in the middle to ensure she would have to sit close to him. He didn't intend the date to go very far, but he wanted a little closeness. It had been a long time and he couldn't remember specifically any girl he'd been close to other than his broken and disjointed memories and dreams of Rogue. It was time to make some new memories, inspire some _new _dreams.

And Rowan was the perfect girl to do that with.

After getting more wine and bringing it over, Rowan settled on the couch beside him and it wasn't long before the movie was starting and she was leaning into him. He sat there, arm around her feeling comfortable and at ease. For one moment, he wasn't _Gambit,_ the mutant, the trouble-maker, the walking complication.

_She makes me feel...I don't know...normal,_ he thought feeling strange about the idea of it. He turned to look at her, examining her profile as she sat there on the comfortable couch with him, the light from the TV highlighting her slightly hooked nose, her strong chin and her soft cheeks.

Slowly, slightly unsure and wary, he reached up and removed the sunglasses, and dropped them onto her lap. Her eyes fell to look at them and she picked them up to examine them for a moment before slowly – and almost uneasily – turned to face him. Their eyes; without the darkness of the sunglasses he could see just how warm her eyes really were, how much redder her hair was than he'd thought it was, and how much pinker her cheeks were.

Rowan placed a hand gently on his cheek and gazed into his eyes for quite some time; he saw her surprise at first, the usual same startled expression that he caught on _everyone's _face when they saw his frightening eyes. But soon, she settled, after a moment of staring she didn't quite as unnerved as he'd initially expected her to be. He was relieved, after all the hiding he'd been doing with his eyes for months that finally _someone _didn't find reason to judge him for them.

Rowan's slipped her hand into his hair and pulled his head towards hers to kiss him and he accepted the gesture gratefully. After so much time alone, the closeness and the warmth of _someone_ who didn't expect anything of him felt comforting. Her kiss was deep, intense and passionate. It was her tongue that beckoned his first, it was her hands that wandered across his chest and beneath his shirt.

He winced inwardly, trying to avoid thinking of how badly it was going to go if she took her hand down past his belt. _Too fast...gonna all go wrong,_ he thought, trying to hold back the anxiety and focus on how fantastic it felt otherwise to be _wanted_ by someone.

She broke the kiss to take a breath, her forehead resting against his, "if...you ask me to, I won't say no..." she breathed heavily.

He understood the question perfectly; she'd changed her mind. All he had to do was _say the word._ He kept his eyes closed, catching his breath, he massaged her shoulders gently, "I wanna wait..." he responded gently to avoid having to tell her the truth. Lies were better, lies were gentler. "Ain't no rush, right?"

"No rush at all," she pecked his lips.

The lack of arousal was frustrating. Had it not been an issue, right then he'd have been ripping clothes off before she'd even finished the proposal. He liked this girl, he was almost certain in the short time he'd known her he was already beginning to care for her. He _wanted_ to seal the deal, do what he did best.

Instead, he was going to have to rely on things he'd never relied on before. He was going to have to _work_ for this if he wanted it. He wasn't going to be able to rely on sex to keep her interested. When push come to shove, he wondered if he was capable enough of keeping her entertained until he _could _figure out a way to correct the impotence problem.

_Could always resort to focusin' on her, keepin' her hands off as much as I can while bein' hands on with her,_ he supposed as she tugged on his bottom lip with her teeth. On television Ray Liotta was getting his rocks off, meanwhile in real life, Remy was as limp as an overcooked shred of carrot. Life didn't seem fair.

_Does it matter? So what life isn't fair? What matters is...I like this girl...I'll just need to work around it somehow._

* * *

**End of Part Ten**

* * *

**Oooooh here we are at the date. Hopefully not too many people hating me (and Remy's attitude towards it, haha). And the return of Wanda, who was surprised? Probably not many, lmao. Thanks to all for the reviews! So many interesting points being made...and interesting thoughts (don't know about Rowan being a sex maniac, she's pretty normal, lol). I was really surprised at how many of you liked Piotr's reaction to the date! Some were cheering him on and I never expected that much support about his trying to talk Remy out of his plans. I'm also glad someone thinks I'm being fair to the characters as well as torturing them maniacally, haha!**

**Anyway, off to work more on Part 25 :) Hope you're all having an awesome weekend. **


	11. Part 11

**Slight Return**

**Part Eleven**

* * *

***** authors note: just putting it out there that there's a few mentions of the rape dating back from Magnetic Attraction...just so that a few of you who suffer from trigger situations don't get too upset. It's nothing all that descriptive, but just throwing it out there that there's a mention.**

* * *

Rogue felt groggy that next morning when she awakened just past eleven. She lay there in bed for a while, suffering with the vaguest sense of sleep paralysis as she reached for her water bottle on the nightstand and was barely able to even get her fingers around it. She felt weak and stiff, nothing worked yet. It wasn't that she was _unfamiliar_ with this feeling, her medication occasionally left her like this if she took it far too late at night, but usually wasn't _this _bad.

_Must have been a really concentrated dosage they stuck me with,_ she thought hazily.

It took half an hour before she was finally able to get out of bed, still feeling incredibly vacant and dull-minded.

She staggered downstairs just after twelve following a cold shower; she'd gotten up far too late and _all _the hot water had gone. She always found it ironic that in a house with so much technology hidden in the basement that the water heaters and the heating system were more ancient than Logan.

She was unhappy to learn she'd had another bad menstrual blood leak during the night but she didn't have the strength nor the energy to clean up the sheets following her shoulder so she she simply covered the mess with her blankets and hoped it wouldn't smell until she felt strong enough to cope with it.

Logan was sitting at the table in the kitchen going through a newspaper; his eyes raised as she unsteadily walked over and carefully dropped into a chair.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"Rough year," she sighed, she ran her hand through her wet hair. She felt utterly drained; she'd had to stop halfway down the steps to sit and rest for a moment to try and gather the rest of the energy just to get to the kitchen.

"Heard you had an episode last night," Logan folded the paper up and placed it down.

Rogue looked way stubbornly, "why do you _always _fucking call it that?" she asked disappointedly. "All of you?! _Rogue's little episodes,_ like it's some kind of gossip...or joke..."

Logan said nothing, he put his hands together and placed them upon the table; he was looking straight at her, steely eyed and intense.

"How did you _think_ Ah was goin' to handle it?!" she suddenly asked, fighting tears.

"Handle what?"

"Wanda!" Rogue responded, "you must have known. You _all _must have known."

"I knew," Logan replied, "Charles said he was going to inform you, I assumed he had."

Perhaps it was the anger that was bringing her energy back, she was unsure, but suddenly she felt somewhat stronger, "You just assumed?! How could you-"

"Rogue, calm down," Logan said quietly, "I thought you knew."

"It's not _me_ that's the problem," Rogue stood up, she felt unsteady and light-headed every time she stood up. She held onto the table, "what about Remy?"

"What about him?" Logan asked, "He's fine."

"You know what Ah'm talkin' about," she hissed. "She hurt him...and you expect things to be just dandy with them livin' under the same roof..." Rogue picked up the salt shaker from the table and threw it to the wall, it shattered into a thousand pieces of glass, the salt scattering everywhere.

"Rogue, calm down," he warned again, "you've worked for _months_ to get this under control. Don't let _it control you."_

Rogue looked away, angry and humiliated by everything. She felt so betrayed that no one had told her this was coming, that no one had even asked her opinion and most importantly, she was furious that they could put Remy in danger like this.

"Wanda ain't that different from you, Rogue. She had a tough time with her powers too. She went through her evolution and came out better – you can't blame her for that."

"Are you accusin' me of hatin' her because of _jealousy?" _Rogue demanded, outraged.

"Rogue!" snapped Logan, "that's enough. Now listen, I don't like it any more than you do, but I don't make the rules here, I only enforce them. The Professor had Wanda psychologically checked _before_ even agreein' to have her here. She – like you – will be undergoin' therapy. She, like you, had a hard enough time of it. She, like you, can't account for _everythin'_ she did while suffering."

"Ah _knew _what Ah was doin' when Ah was in a mess!" Rogue reminded, "Ah might have been insane, but Ah knew _everythin' _Ah was doin'. And so did _she._ Just because she 'had problems' doesn't mean she _wasn't _aware of what she did. She _hurt _Remy."

"And Remy doesn't remember," Logan reminded carefully.

"And that's supposed to make it all better? He doesn't remember so it didn't _happen?!"_

_ "_Of course not," Logan shook his head, "Look, you want to talk to someone about it, talk to the Professor, this is his call, not mine. I'm not gonna sit here and justify to you why Wanda has as much right to be here and get help as you do."

Rogue glared at him, "it ain't about the right. Ah won't deny the girl is fucked up, that she needs someone to help her, but it shouldn't be us, and she _shouldn't _be near the guy she almost _killed _just because she couldn't have him!"

"Rogue..." Logan sighed, standing up slowly, clearly growing tired with this conversation.

"She _raped_ him, Logan," Rogue spat, "doesn't that even _count _against her?! She's _dangerous_...she takes what she want and she doesn't care who says no or stop."

Logan eyed her worriedly, "you need to go see Hank for your medication," he said flatly, "I'll be checkin' with him in ten minutes to make sure you went. If you don't, I'll take you there to get it myself."

"So is it goin' back to the way it was? Bein' watched and supervised," Rogue demanded, "Ah do all this hard work, but _you guys _decide to make decisions without me, it fucks me up but _Ah'm_ the one to suffer?!"

"Rogue, just go get your fucking medication," Logan slammed his hand on the table hard, his eyes seemed to blaze with anger. "I've had enough, okay?! I've watched you deteriorate, I've watched you go insane, and I'm not gonna stand around for round two. So go get the fucking medication, take it, calm the fuck down, stop acting like a child and start acting your age, and go talk to the Professor. Stop yelling at me, I ain't got a say and you know that. Charles already asked for my opinion and he didn't take it. You got an opinion, take it to him yourself."

Rogue gaped at her mentor, she'd never had him yell at her like this before and it left her feeling breathless and cold. She couldn't move, nor speak.

"Keep this up, kid, and they'll start upping your dosage. You want to know what time of day it is, where you are, what you're doin'? Or you want to be _numb_ to everythin' like you were in the beginnin', sittin' like a zombie? Keep it up, just _keep it up,_" Logan warned her, sounding distinctly upset.

She lowered her eyes to the floor, her eyes feeling misty, she pursed her lips to keep from sobbing like a scolded toddler.

"Uhm...am I...interruptin' somethin'?"

Rogue closed her eyes and tried to compose herself quickly, hoped that no tears had escaped. How long had it been that Remy had been near the door, had he heard anything? The sound of his voice didn't seem to indicate anything at least.

"No," said Logan flatly. Rogue could hear the tension in _his voice._ He didn't like being seen getting emotional, nor heard that way either.

"Is there any coffee goin'?" Remy asked with a casual yawn, Rogue listened to him crossing the kitchen in his heavy boots.

"No. You'll have to make some," Logan said, his voice sounding oddly thick. Rogue opened her eyes to stare at her mentor, her chest so tight it ached. He was good at keeping himself in check which is why she found it so utterly disturbing that he looked so affected. Somewhere between full of anger and utter despair.

Rogue's eyes trailed to see Remy as he moved towards the coffee maker, beginning the process of cleaning out the old grounds and rinsing out the dregs in the pot. He _seemed _fine, he hadn't heard. No one could have heard the things she'd just blurted and be _that _fine. He looked positively cheerful, he was _humming._

_Remy never hums,_ she thought, her stomach in knots. That was somehow more disturbing than Logan's reaction to her. Who were these people? Had everyone been replaced by pod people over night?

"You were in late," Logan said, his voice still thick, he was standing, hands against the table, he lowered his head and began breathing slowly and precisely. Rogue wondered if he were counting backwards from ten like he sometimes did when the younger students enraged him with their behaviour.

Remy gave a strange pause, and he looked over his shoulder, "I was? I don't think I was..."

"You came in past eleven," Logan remarked, he stood up straight, removing his hands from the table and shrugged off the event from moments before.

"I had permission."

"There's _alcohol _on your breath," Logan sniffed the air, he turned and looked at him suspiciously.

_Not alcohol again,_ Rogue thought in disgrace. _Please tell me he's not drinkin' again, it never leads to good things when he drinks._

Remy paused from what he was doing, raised a hand to his mouth and breathed into it then sniffed. He gave a strange shrug, "I got permission for that too."

"Right, sure you did," Logan uttered.

"Check with the Professor," Remy responded coolly, choosing not to be affected by the accusation as he filled the machine up with fresh coffee beans, "he'll back me up."

Logan shook his head at Remy and without so much as another word he left the room, his heavy footsteps descending down the hall, the creak of the floorboards following him.

Rogue drew her breath a little nervously, and she hugged herself. She wished Logan hadn't left her, she wasn't sure was ready to be alone with Remy today. She'd done well all week in similar circumstances, but after what had happened last night, she was afraid the slightest thing may set her off.

Remy filled the reservoir on the machine, his voice soft as he hummed absently. Rogue wasn't sure what he was humming, but it sounded cheerful. She wished she could feel even a fraction of that cheer.

"Did..." she began in a nervous breath, "did you really have permission?"

"Yes," he said after a moment, he threw a glance towards her and there was a very brief glimpse of guilt behind his eyes. Rogue wondered if it was only because she _knew _him so well that she'd spied it or if he was letting his carefully maintained poker face begin to slip a little in his distraction.

It was hard to believe the Professor would make allowances for Remy to go out drinking, especially after past behaviours. Uneasily she folded her arms, "really?" she doubted.

"Yes," he replied again, he switched the machine on then turned fully towards her, he folded his arms casually across his stomach, "ain't got much reason to lie about it, do I?" he pointed out.

"Ah suppose not," she gave the vaguest shrug, her stomach was twisting in knots still, or perhaps that was just the cramps. "Where did you go?"

"My boss had a poker game goin'," Remy responded, he looked away from her to see what the weather was like outside the window; the blinds were up but the weather out was grey even for a summer Sunday. "Been a while since I'd played poker so I figured why the hell not, get out for a little bit, enjoy some time outside of this place. Not that there's anythin' wrong with here but sometimes you need to get out, you know," he shrugged casually.

"Win anythin'?" she asked, trying to keep the small talk going. Knowing Remy and his talent for poker, he had probably won a fair bit. Poker games were always lucrative for him, or at least had been a year ago. As far as she was aware, he hadn't played poker seriously in quite some time...at least not until now.

"Yeah, my right to longer lunch breaks," he gave a vague smirk.

"Oh," she mouthed. "No money?"

"We didn't play for money. My boss ain't exactly rollin' in cash," Remy shifted from foot to foot casually, waiting on the coffee to brew. He looked the other way, his eye caught something on the floor, "somethin' is broken. Looks like...glass...and...sugar or...somethin'..."

_Oh yeah,_ she realised. _The salt shaker I threw..._

"Yeah...I'll clean it up..."

"Allow me," he grabbed the dust pan.

Rogue reached for it from his hand, "it's my mess. Ah'll do it."

"I'm perfectly capable-"

"So am _Ah,"_ she said quickly not meaning to snap it quite as directly as she had. He looked at her with some surprise and let go of the pan as she took it from him. "Sorry."

"How is that PMS workin' out for you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Don't," she warned, she squatted down and began to brush up the fine mixture of salt and glass from the floor.

Remy bent down to pick up some of the larger pieces, "it ain't exactly unobvious," he remarked quite casually.

"My period is _my _business."

"You suffer bad, don't you?" he asked.

Rogue winced. Yes she suffered, and right now, she was _suffering_ with this conversation. Was he trying to make her feel worse? Her chest was thudding hard as it was and her cheeks were burning enough with the hot fiery embarrassment of his _knowing_ about the blood spilling from her like something from a Stephen King novel.

"Never seen that much blood from someone who ain't dyin'," he gave a strange almost nervous laugh.

"Shut up, okay?" she pleaded of him, sweeping delicately at the mess.

"What does it feel like?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, do you _know _it's happenin'? Or is just kind of like 'oh look, there's blood comin' out of me...'."

Rogue looked away from him, her cheeks burning more, "You feel it," she replied.

"How?"

"Ah don't know, Remy, you just _do,_" she responded frustratedly.

"Does it hurt or...?"

"Yes, it hurts," she snapped once again, "the cramps are intense, and every time you move, every time you sneeze or so much as stand up and you feel a rush of it come out of you like somethin' from a Hitchcock movie, okay?"

Remy flinched, "fuck..." he muttered.

"What?"

"Cut myself," he glanced down at his hand, the glass from the piece of the salt shaker he'd picked up had cut into his finger. He got up and moved to the sink to rinse it off, "fucking stings."

"That would be the salt," she suggested. Yes, this entire conversation felt like he was rubbing salt into a wound of hers right now. She supposed it was no less than she deserved. She watched him, rinsing his finger as she finished sweeping up the salt and as much of the glass as she could see. She disposed of the mess in the garbage and hung the dustpan and brush back up on the wall by the fridge.

_What if he sees Wanda and suddenly remembers? What if he isn't prepared? _She suddenly wondered. Had anyone bothered to inform him yet? If no one had informed her before Wanda had arrived it seemed unlikely they had bothered to inform him either.

"Remy...Wanda is..."

Remy turned to look at her curiously, his finger poised under the faucet.

"Wanda is...moving in. Wanda _has_ moved in..."

He seemed to process this with some confusion. "She is?"

"Yes," said Rogue uneasily, watching for reactions, seeing nothing but bewilderment. _He remembers nothin' about what she did to him. Does he even remember havin' slept with her? _

_ "_I see," Remy stated, he didn't seem to know what else to say other than this. He had a vague worried look on his face momentarily, but Rogue could only gather it was from knowing what kind of person Wanda was in general.

"If...if you'll take my advice," Rogue said quietly, "you should...you know...stay away from her."

Remy's phone went off somewhere in his left pocket, and he pulled it out to look at it, his expression casual as he read the text message he'd apparently received. He pocketed the phone not bothering to elaborate whom the message was from. Rogue supposed it was his boss or one of the friends he said he had; it wasn't her business and she wasn't about to ask.

"Believe me, Rogue..." Remy began, leaving Rogue yearning for the days when he'd called her _chere,_ "I ain't got no intentions of hangin' out with Wanda...I know she's trouble with a capital T."

Rogue took a deep breath, "it'd be wise...Ah know it's not my place but..."

"But friends look out for friends," Remy nodded carefully, giving her a meaningful gaze. She read it at once, she understood what he was trying to say. That they _were _friends, and _only _friends.

Rogue wished she had the guts to mention the letter, to ask what he thought or if there was anything he needed to say. His lack of response seemed to indicate he did have nothing to add to the situation. Everything was going to go on like it was here, nothing would change, there was no point in dredging things up any further.

"So..." she tried in attempt to keep making small talk and ease the moment, "what's your plans for the day?"

"Nothin'. Just chillin'," he gazed out of the window, "I guess sunbathin' is out of the question..." he sighed, noting how it seemed to be raining now judging by the splatters of water on the window.

"Do...do you wanna hang out or anythin'?" she asked. She hated that she'd asked it, she hated that it sounded so _desperate. _She couldn't help it, it had come out before she'd even thought of it.

"I..." he faltered, he seemed to be searching for an excuse, "I actually think maybe it would..." he frowned a little, getting lost in what he wanted to say, "Rogue..." he tried, "I appreciate the offer, but...I think we should try to keep our distance for a while, you know? It's not that I _don't_ want to be friends, you know I do..." he turned away from her to grab a cup from the cabinet even though the coffee wasn't remotely close to being ready yet. He was trying to make himself appear busy, distracted.

Rogue fought to try and not feel shot down and humiliated by being turned down. She looked away from him, trying to hold onto herself hard, trying to catch herself from the fall.

"I need time...you do too..." he explained. "Besides...you look a little ill anyways, you should be relaxin', not puttin' up with me," he forced a dazzling smile at her, she could _see _it was forced, and incredibly uncomfortable. "We'll hang out soon, I promise. Just...not yet, okay?"

Rogue gave a faint nod, trying to hide how much it hurt that he wouldn't even spend time with her. Sighing, she turned and left the kitchen quietly intent on getting her medication from Hank. She had a feeling today of all days she was going to be needing it.

* * *

Remy stood at the window of the kitchen sipping his coffee. He'd been in something of a cheerful mood when he'd come down but that was quickly starting to leave him. Perhaps it was just the rain that was drizzling outside, or perhaps it was the dull feeling that Rogue's offer of spending time together had left him with.

He sighed deeply. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to avoid Rogue, but right now it felt for the best. Standing alone and brooding seemed to be a better choice than trying to pretend he didn't know that Rogue still cared for him deeply. It was better for him and it was definitely better for her.

_She wasn't in a good place today, _he told himself unhappily as he stared out of the window at the rain; he watched the drops rippling a puddle on the patio outside. _She's been holdin' it together pretty well for the past week but the cracks are startin' to appear. Hope to God she manages to glue the cracks before they get bigger. My stayin' well back is the best thing I can do for her. _

He hated that he'd lied to her, but it had come so instinctively. He hadn't even needed a single moment to consider what her reaction would be if he told her that he'd been on a date. Poker had come to him immediately, inspiration. He'd always been good at lying and he was glad he was so fast at it even when being only half-awake.

Regardless of knowing that lie was protecting her, he still felt lousy for it. He wished he'd been able to tell her the truth, that he'd met a girl...a rather _wonderful_ girl, who was normal and kind, and had no airs and graces. Part of him wished he could share that with her, not keep it a secret. If they _were _friends he should be able to.

_No, it'd devastate her that I'd moved on so damn quickly. I don't want to hurt her, she's doin' well. Maybe Pete was right, maybe I am a dick, maybe I should have waited before moving on with Rowan._

He pushed those thoughts away. _No, you know what, screw him if he thinks I'm a dick for tryin' to be _happy,_ for tryin' to move on! He's just jealous 'cause he's still stuck in that circle where he can't even look at Kitty,_ Remy decided.

Remy turned to leave the room after throwing out the dregs of his now cold coffee and rinsing the cup. Just as he had _almost _made it to the door he was met with a pair of intense blue eyes half concealed by grown out black hair streaked with red. _Wanda,_ he thought in disgrace.

He had expected to run into her at some point following what Rogue had told him. He hadn't expected it to be so soon. He couldn't explain why he felt an instant dislike to her more than he ever had before. It struck him so much that he moved back from the door to let her inside. He didn't even want to be remotely _near _her.

_I've slept with you,_ he thought darkly. He couldn't remember the event itself, only what had been briefly alluded to. He couldn't for the life of himself understand _why _he'd sleep with Wanda. She was a walking timebomb, and being Magneto's daughter only added a bigger element of danger to that.

_Maybe that's why I did it, _Remy thought as he stood staring at her too-short shorts and her belly top. The girl wore no bra and it was more than obvious. Remy was glad for once that he _couldn't _have a reaction to the sight of this.

"Remy..." Wanda said, sounding almost surprised.

"You need to change," Remy looked down at her disapprovingly.

"But-"

"But nothin," Remy retorted, passing by her, "Professor won't stand for you goin' around like that. There's _kids_ here. No one wants to see your nipples _or_ your ass."

Wanda was left speechless as he left the room.

_Wow, I just sounded like an absolute asshole,_ he realised. He couldn't help but congratulate himself for defending the rules on clothing here. He supposed if she'd been heading out for the pool it'd have been a different story, but there wasn't any way she was going to be allowed to dress like _that _in a mansion full of teenagers.

He couldn't explain why he felt so eerily uneasy about Wanda suddenly. The mention of her had concerned him, yes, but being in the same room left him with a strange crawling feeling. He tried to shake it off as he headed towards the mansion's gym down in the basement.

_Work out is what I need right now, a work out to burn away all the frustration,_ he decided as he pulled his hooded sweatshirt off upon entering the gymnasium. It was a basic room, a few machines, some weights, nothing special in comparison to the rest of the facilities the mansion had to offer.

He wasn't surprised at all to see Piotr Rasputin there working on the weights, his large muscles gleaming with the sweat of what had clearly been an intense work out that had been going on for some time.

Remy's back tensed a little to see his friend there, to feel the disapproving gaze.

Piotr said nothing, he continued doing what he was doing, his eyes never leaving the spot on the floor he was so intently staring towards.

Remy took a place upon the treadmill, set it to a slow pace to start with and began walking. "The date went _fine,_ thanks for asking," he remarked somewhat bitterly.

"I _didn't,_" Piotr uttered quietly, his voice deep, his tone bitter too.

Remy snorted, "so that's how it's gonna be? You don't agree with what I do so you're just gonna ignore the past few years we've been friends?"

"You are being-"

"A dick, yes, you told me," Remy retorted, he pushed the plus button on the machine to turn the speed up, he began jogging. "I can't help it if I want to have a life and be happy."

"You will not be happy when you realise that-" Piotr began.

Remy hastily interrupted, "when I realise what?" he demanded quickly, "that I'm still _in love with Rogue?"_ he gave a laugh. "'Cause honestly, I'm not. I don't got any feelin's for her except a lil' pity, some respect and friendship. I don't love the girl."

"You say this now, but I have _seen_ how you look at her."

"Yeah, I look at her the way I look at _any girl_ with a good pair of tits and a nice ass," Remy muttered.

"Funny how you do not look at _any _of the other girls with such fine assets in much the same way," Piotr noted pointedly.

"Look, deal with it, okay? Stop focusin' on _my _love life and go fix your own."

"I do not need to fix anything," Piotr put the large weight down and grabbed his towel from where he'd left it, he rubbed his neck with a sigh.

"You and Kitty can't even look at each other, it's time you got over it," Remy stated coolly. "Ask her out again, try to mend whatever _damage_ you did."

"What do you mean what damage _I _did?!" Piotr snapped.

Remy turned to stare at his friend. This comment was telling; Remy studied him for a moment, seeing the redness in his face that had _not _been there before. _Okay, so...whatever happened...he's not responsible for. He thinks Kitty is,_ Remy realised. He almost lost his concentration on the treadmill and he stumbled, barely catching himself on the handlebars and managing to find his rhythm again.

"So you admit it wasn't you..." Remy said pointedly.

"I said no such thing," Piotr grabbed his water bottle from the floor, yanked the cap open and took a long drink, his gulping loud.

"You said it wasn't _you _who did the damage."

"There was no damage," Piotr headed for the doorway.

Remy doubted that. The way the large Russian had snapped at him for the accusation said it all. Damage had been done somewhere, and he felt it wasn't himself to blame. That meant this was all on Kitty.

_Is this just because of her not bein' over Lance like she said?_ Remy wondered as he watched Piotr leaving the gymnasium. _Or is there somethin' more I'm not seein'? Did I miss somethin' because I was so caught up in what was goin' on with Rogue...or myself? Did Kitty do somethin' stupid? _

He had to half wonder if perhaps maybe the girl had found pills and taken them at some point prior to the date. But she'd seemed _fine, _if not a little tense on her return. No, this wasn't because of pills. It was something else.

_Probably something stupid,_ he decided sighing inwardly, he turned his focus to the treadmill and tried to burn all his energy out into it. For now, he wasn't going to think about it, he had enough problems and he wasn't going to ruin his day.

* * *

**End of Part Eleven**

* * *

**Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. See, told you I'd get another update up for the week! Hope you all enjoyed the last part, and are glad the first date is over, lol. Lots of interesting thoughts flying around out there, (Ekster always has a few good points). I agree it does seem careless and almost cruel that Prof X brought Wanda to the team, but we have to remember he runs a school full of mutants...he must have a lot on his plate. With Rogue's return, some things must have slipped? Lol. It's convenient for me, anyway!**

**As always thanks for the wonderful reviews. Hope you all liked this instalment. I'm off to write part 27 and get a bit of Skyrim played before bed. Have a good week, all :)**


	12. Part 12

**Slight Return**

**Part Twelve**

* * *

Remy near tired himself with a workout in the mansions gym, but it did very little to take his mind away from his troubles. After a brief shower to rinse the sweat off, he took his time about dressing; he had no rush to be anywhere today, it was a Sunday, he nothing to do (other than the weak-half-hearted promise he'd made himself to clean his room). This was the kind of day one spent lazing in the sun, and he fully intended to take advantage of it, deepen his tan, perhaps swim a little in the pool, and try to enjoy the day, try to put himself in the good mood he'd started the morning with.

By the time he left his bedroom it was almost one thirty in the afternoon. He wandered down the hall, trying to push away the thoughts of Piotr's attitude and Wanda's return and instead trying to focus on how great his date with Rowan had been. He hummed a little to himself absently as he walked.

And then halfway down when his eyes caught something on the normally spotless floor.

He stopped immediately in his tracks, because he'd seen the same thing yesterday. It was a smear of blood, tiny, minute, it looked stepped in, and there were further smaller faded smears further down on the hard wood floor.

He felt his stomach clench a little, blood was never a good sign, especially not with the torrents of it he'd seen pouring down Rogue's bare legs yesterday morning. But the smears weren't heading for the bathroom, they were heading down the hall towards the staircase into the foyer.

With a sigh he followed the smears further; another smear, more this time, trailing a little like it had caught on the edge of something. He followed around the corner to the staircase and started down; the suspicions he _hadn't _wanted to have were confirmed immediately. It _was _Rogue the blood had led him to.

He drew a nervous breath and jogged quickly down the stairs where she was sitting halfway down, her head resting against the railing of the banister, her arms clutching at her stomach.

"Rogue?" he asked shakily quickly examining her visually in horror at the blood he saw on her purple jogging pants; it had trailed down the legs and soaked in, not just to the inside of the thighs but over the front of the pants too. It was on her bare hands, bloody finger prints stained the banister and the railing, it was on the white of her hair too, on her cheek.

_It's everywhere!_ He thought in absolute terror.

_"Rogue!"_ he gasped, nearly slipping on the steps to kneel beside her, "Rogue...?" he shook her.

Her eyes opened wearily, she looked strange and unfocused and very unlike herself. Her mouth hung slack, expression so vacant and weak.

Remy yelled loudly for help but no one seemed to be remotely in the vicinity. Where was Logan with his exceptional hearing when it was urgent? Where was Hank? Rogue's eyes closed again and she lay her head lightly against the railing.

"Come on, wake up..." he shook her hard. What was he supposed to do in this kind of situation? He scooped her up, for the moment not caring about the blood that was going to ultimately end up all over him; as he did he noted there was blood even on the carpeting of the stairs and he thought of the humiliation she'd face if any one should notice. How humiliated she'd be that _he _had.

She was heavy in his arms, heavier than he certainly expected her to be. He carefully carried all the way down and made a quick beeline for the hospital room. The lights were off, and it was empty inside. He hit the light switch awkwardly with his elbow, still clutching onto Rogue who dangled from his arms like a life-sized rag doll.

He placed her on the nearest of the two beds, and glanced around anxiously, not sure how he was meant to handle this situation. He looked for anything, a communicator nearby, a phone...no, that would take too long, he needed something _immediate, _he didn't have time to stand talking explaining what was wrong.

An emergency alarm on the wall caught his attention; it was a fire alarm and without even a thought to it, he slammed the side of his fist into it surprised that the glass didn't slam into his bare skin. The sirens were deafening, he let out a little cry of shock at just _how _loud they were.

_No time to think about it, do somethin' for fucks sake, she might die or anythin'!_ He thought in blind panic. He looked around the room, frantic, trying to think of something. There was a cabinet on his left full of bandages, dressings and towels.

_That's it, towel, try to stop the bleedin' as much as you can 'til someone gets here,_ Remy rushed to the cabinet and yanked it open, glad this was one of the cabinets that wasn't under lock and key. He grabbed a handful of towels and rushed to Rogue; as strange as he felt to do it he pushed the towels against her crotch as hard as he could, reaching for a latex glove from the box on the table nearby. He pushed his knee against the towels to hold them there not even sure if it would do any good or not, as he quickly pulled the glove on (it being ridiculously huge being meant for Hank's rather large hands) and checked her neck for a pulse. At least it was reasonably strong, he tried to concentrate on it, fifty beats a minute perhaps? Forty? It was hard to tell, he couldn't focus on the clock on the wall, he was shaking too badly and couldn't think straight.

"Come on, Rogue...wake up..." he shook her a little. "Help be here soon..."

"What the fuck is goin' on?!" came a loud cry from the door; Remy looked over his shoulder to see Logan _and _Hank running in.

_Better late than never,_ Remy thought. "Where the fuck were you?!" he demanded.

"What's happened?!" Hank gaped as he rushed to Rogue's side.

"Found her like this!" Remy yelled over the alarm.

"Logan, go disarm the alarm!" Hank commanded, "can't think straight with all this noise!"

Remy stood helpless, watching as Hank put on gloves. "Is she gonna be okay?" he asked loudly.

"Remy, you'll have to leave, I can't examine her with you in the room," Hank said pointedly.

"Is she bleedin' to death?" Remy fretted. "I never seen so much blood like that since...since..."

_ Since the nightmares...since I saw her blood on the warehouse floor, _he realised in distress.

"Remy, _go!_" Hank commanded, "you've done all you can."

He left the room reluctantly, his heart thudding like a bass drum at a nightclub, the beat irregular so that it strangely hurt. His breath was staggering out, he felt strangely cold despite the heat he knew was thick in the mansion.

The alarms suddenly cut off leaving his ears ringing and his head pounding; he stood in the hallway outside for a minute, covered with Rogue's blood. He let his back lean against the wainscotting and tried to calm himself down; he felt so weakened suddenly that he let himself slide down and sit upon the floor.

He felt close to tears and he couldn't explain why; he pressed the thumb and middle finger of his left hand his eyes to try and fight it. His fingers felt sticky, he realised they were bloody.

_What happened to her? What made her that ill? I ain't ever seen blood like that comin' from a woman before. I know they complain about periods and all the rest but that...that's horrific...jesus, can she _die _from somethin' like that?_

"You okay?"

Remy didn't need to look up, he recognised Logan's voice over the ringing in his ears. "I'm fine," he mumbled shakily.

"You don't _look _fine," Logan retorted.

"I didn't do that to her," Remy responded shakily, as if there'd been an accusation somewhere. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to defend himself suddenly.

"I know you didn't," Logan admitted, "she's been bleedin' since yesterday mornin'."

"You knew?" Remy sighed, he dropped his hand to look up at the older man. He suddenly felt so tired and drained. All the happiness he'd had only twenty minutes earlier seemed to have been torn away from him.

"Course I knew," Logan grunted, he came to sit on the floor beside him. "I always know."

Remy turned to look at him, examining his unshaven face and tired looking eyes. He looked much older today; he still had a jacket on and smelled like alcohol. He'd been out all night. No wonder he hadn't come when he'd called for help that first time. He must have just gotten home.

"I can smell it, you know," Logan looked away, his expression conflicted, "could even tell it was pretty heavy. Could even smell it off of _you_ yesterday."

"But I didn't touch it," Remy tried to explain.

"Doesn't matter, you were near it, might have splattered on a tiny piece of your skin you didn't notice, but I could smell it on you."

"I cleaned it up," he managed quietly, his stomach queasy, he pushed himself up feeling weak and unsteady, "and I better go clean up what's in the hall."

"I'll do it," Logan looked up at him.

"Take it from me, if she knew you'd done it, she'd be humiliated," Remy assured, "I cleaned it up once...she'd be better off knowin' that I was the one to do it."

Remy didn't wait for any kind of argument, he simply headed upstairs and went to Rogue and Kitty's room. He had a feeling that was where the bulk of the _real _mess was going to be. She'd come from upstairs by the looks of it, she'd probably gone to nap perhaps earlier and woken up in this mess...

He wasn't wrong; it was all over the sheets and he tore them from the bed trying to avoid looking at it, trying to avoid seeing patterns in the way she'd slept from the way the blood had seeped into the sheets and mattress protector. The blood had at least not soaked down into the new mattress that had been replaced since she'd been gone to Muir Island. He glanced briefly to the corner, noting a pile of sheets there in a laundry basket that were _already _stained, the blood looked much drier than what was on the bed.

_How can anyone bleed this much?_ He thought, somewhat perturbed.

He swiftly took the blooded items down to the laundry room, dumped the sheets, the mattress protector _and _his blooded shirt and pants into the nearest washer and put it on; at least most of the blood was still relatively wet, which meant it was likely to come out easier. He washed at the large sink, having to resort to using a stain removal soap for fabric to scrub the blood from his arms. He was glad some of his clean laundry was in the basket by the wall as he at least had something to change into so he didn't have to resort to running through the mansion in his boxer shorts.

By the time he finally got back to the foyer, he found Logan kneeling on the stairs scrubbing at the blood stained carpet vigorously.

Remy watched momentarily, "thought I told you I'd do it..."

"Ain't your mess."

"Ain't yours, neither," Remy shrugged, he sat on the lower steps to rest, feeling utterly depleted now.

"I _feel _like it is," Logan admitted with a deep resounding sigh.

Remy tilted his head, gazing at the man, not sure what to make of this comment. He shrugged and moved and examined Logan's efforts, the blood was coming out miraculously. "You...really now how to get blood out of a carpet."

"Would it freak you out if I said I've had to _more _than once?" Logan asked carefully.

Remy snorted, "suppose not," he raised a hand shakily to his wet hair. He'd washed it again at the sink just to be sure no more blood was on him.

"You look a little rattled, LeBeau," Logan noted, "go out, get some air. You look green."

"What about Rogue...?" Remy asked. It didn't seem _right _to leave the mansion with Rogue in that condition. It seemed almost...disrespectful, or...as if he should wait for some real news. At least wait to know if she's all right first?

"Ain't nothin' you can do for her right now," Logan pointed out, "she's in capable hands."

Remy sighed.

"Besides, thought you wanted to keep your distance from her?"

"How am I meant to keep a distance when she's like that?" Remy asked, "someone's gotta care for her."

"If we had _known_ she was that ill, we'd have been caring for her. She didn't let on to any of us."

"Never?"

Logan shrugged, "she never mentioned to Hank that I know of. Not that he'd have _told _me about it, but...I'd have heard somethin'. I hear a lot of things around here, but that was never one of them."

Remy sighed, "maybe I should have said somethin' yesterday to Hank...or the Professor. But...the way she was so fine afterwards, I just figured, you know, it was normal for her..."

"You can't go blaming yourself for someone else's secrets," Logan concluded, "Go out, Remy. Try to take your mind off of it. Go see your girlfriend."

Remy spun round to look at Logan suddenly, squinting a little.

"Like I said," Logan continued scrubbing, never even throwing a glance in his direction, "I hear things around here."

"I...see," Remy quietly uttered, feeling oddly threatened by the thought someone else knew; he'd wanted to be the one to tell people when the time was right.

"Besides, saw you together last night near midnight...I was at a poker game, looked out the window...saw you leavin' her apartment buildin', saw you kiss her goodnight outside..."

Remy looked away, "She's...not my girlfriend, we only had that one date...and nothin' happened."

"Didn't say it did. Wouldn't be my business if it did," Logan shrugged.

"So you're not gonna even chew me out about how it's not fair to Rogue?" Remy threw a disbelieving glance to the man. He couldn't believe how strangely _casual _Logan was being about this. He'd expected to be yelled at, to be accused of inconsideration.

Logan stopped scrubbing and turned to look at him, his steely eyes curious, "I love Rogue, LeBeau. She's the closest thing I'll most likely have to my own kid, and I don't want to see her unhappy," he admitted. "Part of me says I should take her side, pound you into the ground if you so much as hurt her with any early revelations about this girl you're seein'..."

Remy snorted, yes, this was the reaction he'd expected.

"But," Logan continued, he gave a sigh, "the other part of me says good for you, kid," he nodded at Remy, "you're movin' on, you've taken on this job and you've _stuck to it, _you kept up with your chores, your trainin', Danger Room _and _you've been at every mission since you were fully integrated into the team...and now, you're takin' the next step. Ain't no point in all the rest of it if you don't occasionally _try _to have a life or find a little happiness where you can get it," he shrugged, "wish I could."

_Is he makin' fun of me?_ Remy wondered. _No...no, I actually think he's bein' sincere...Jesus._

"But...what about Rogue?" Remy asked weakly.

"Rogue will have to find a way to get over it," Logan responded somewhat unhappily, "however...try to keep it a secret for now. It's early days into her recovery, and there's so many complications at the moment, there's no need to add to her stress all at once..."

"Complications?" Remy asked.

"I-"

"Hey...uhm...where's the library?"

Remy knew the voice before he'd even turned to see the face of the girl it had come from. He couldn't explain why but there was that strange hard feeling right at the pit of his stomach again as he slowly moved to glance towards Wanda Maximoff who was standing in the foyer.

Earlier he had only briefly noted how she seemed so different to how he remembered her being; right now it was more apparent, her hair was longer, swept to the side, streaked with red rather than the half-dyed mess it had seemed to him a year or so ago. Her makeup was less dramatic, her clothing less revealing than it had been when he had reprimanded her earlier about it; a red-hooded top with a band logo stayed zipped up firmly to her collarbone, and she was wearing baggy jeans that were distressed and slightly ripped at the knees. She wore sneakers, rather than boots. It was a completely different look for her compared to what he had grown accustomed to and what he had seen in the kitchen that morning.

She seemed vaguely insecure as she stood there, he wondered if it was _possible _he may have actually hurt her feelings when he'd accused her of dressing inappropriately. Did Wanda _have _feelings like that?

"Library is down the left hall, and turn left again until you see the framed painting of the mansion on the wall," Logan said, his voice abrupt, Remy sensed his restraint.

"Okay, thanks," Wanda nodded; her intense blue eyes raised to Remy and she forced a strangely uncomfortable and surprisingly shy smile in his direction.

Remy waited for a moment as Wanda turned and left down the hall, he listened for her footsteps until she was out of earshot before he turned to look at Logan questioningly.

"_Those _complications," muttered Logan under his breath.

"Is she _really _stayin' here? Joinin' the team?" Remy asked. "I mean...Rogue said somethin' about it this mornin', but I wasn't really sure _what _to make of that...seemed so...I don't know. Unlikely? Does the Professor know what he's doin' here, lettin' her stay?"

"Time will tell," Logan answered.

"How come no one even got any warnin'?"

"First I heard about it was last night," Logan grumbled. "Charles got distracted. I suppose with all the stress he's been under...all the stuff that's going on here."

"Like _what?"_

_ "_You have any idea what it's like trying to run a school full of hormonal teenagers with _mutant powers_?" Logan scoffed, "then the funding situation, trying to keep everything running, trying to keep all the necessary paper work in order so everything is by the book...It takes work."

Remy realised it was no wonder Rogue was going to be feeling under the strain of complications. Living with the girl who the evolution process had actually _worked _for was going to take its toll when she herself had become utterly destroyed by it.

"You _know _she's a shitstorm tornado, right?" Remy asked. Normally, Wanda had never particularly bothered him, at least not that he could particularly recall. He found her somewhat irritating, or at least had when he'd lived with her. But now...something _was _bothering him. A niggling feeling he couldn't exactly touch upon.

There were plenty of reasons to dislike the girl without that sense something was off about all this. She was obnoxious, loud and unstable. _And then there's that stupid thing Lance said to me about me havin' slept with her a few times...not that I can even _recall_ ever bein' _that _desperate,_ Remy thought with some distress as he picked at his fingernails; he noticed there was a little blood under there that hadn't come away when he'd washed his hands. It reminded him of nightmares he'd had of Rogue almost dying, nightmares that had been _memories._

_Rogue's blood on my hands..._

He felt a little sick suddenly, he had to swallow it back.

"Apparently she's been the perfect picture of mental health since she went through her evolution. Unlike Rogue, hers actually _worked,_" Logan remarked.

"So is there an actual _reason _she's here? She's not here to get help if it worked so...what's going on with this?" Remy asked.

"Same as you, I guess, she's here to make a fresh start," Logan didn't sound remotely pleased about this thought.

"I don't trust that," Remy muttered. "She's never cared about helpin' people, or savin' the world, or tryin' to better herself."

"Neither did you at first," Logan pointed out.

"I came to my senses," Remy reminded.

"So has she, apparently," Logan shrugged. "Look, I know she's...unpredictable, but the Professor pointed out to me this morning that after all we've went through with _Rogue _can we _really _judge Wanda?"

"Rogue isn't a promiscuous psychopath," Remy noted, he felt Logan's eyes on him very suddenly. He didn't like that look, that look of being dissected and examined. He supposed Logan thought him a hypocrite; he too had once been ridiculously promiscuous and had a reputation for being somewhat psychopathic himself apparently. "Look, I don't believe for a minute that goin' through a machine can fix _every _little thing about someone. Even if it fixed the unpredictability of her powers...can you tell me outright that it fixed the instability of her fucked up head?" he asked in a low voice. "It took Rogue four months of constant therapy and medication to get remotely _level_...and you expect me to believe Wanda is fine now because of a machine?"

"Wanda's _instability_ was linked to her powers," Logan explained.

"So you're defending her?"

"Of course not," Logan went back to scrubbing the carpet, "but you know how it is. I'm an _instructor_ here; I'm not supposed to have personal opinions on this and whether I do or not, I'm not supposed to voice them."

"You don't need to," Remy snorted, "Look on your face and the tone of your voice alone says all I need to know."

"Then if you know all you need to I suggest you drop it," Logan remarked. "It's a nice day out there, Remy, go hang out with people instead of cleanin' up other people's mess, you do enough of it at your job. Go _enjoy_ yourself."

Remy sighed, "maybe you're right, maybe I need to get out of here for a bit."

"Take the Jeep," offered Logan. "She's fully gassed and everything. Just go enjoy the day and stop frettin' about stuff here you can't change."

_He must be pretty worried about me if he's offerin' me his car,_ Remy realised, blinking at the gesture.

Remy didn't bother saying anything more than "thanks," before he took off towards the garage to get the keys to the Jeep. He felt guilty as he climbed into the car, almost as if he were abandoning Rogue to some horrible bleeding fate right there in the hospital room.

It didn't feel right to leave.

But what else could he do? Logan was right, there was nothing else he could do here. He couldn't sit there going _crazy _in silence waiting for any kind of word on how the girl was.

He drove straight to Rowan's apartment building not really knowing where else to go; he wished he'd thought to go up and grab his phone from his bedroom so that he could at least give her some kind of warning he was coming. He wasn't sure if she might even be _home_ on a Sunday or if she'd be in town, but it was worth checking. If not, he supposed he could always go for a long drive to try and clear his head.

As it turned out, Rowan _was _home. Although it was a little after two thirty by the time he got to Rowan's apartment, she was _still _in her pyjamas, her hair was a mess and she looked as if she had barely woken up. He smirked a little as he stood at the door looking at her.

"Good afternoon."

"You might have called," she ran her hand anxiously through her tangled and wild curls, looking at him with puffy tired eyes.

He examined her, thinking how strangely beautiful she looked so early in her waking. "I was in the area...didn't have my phone," he explained.

"I look a mess," she groaned, moving away from the door to let him in, "let me go get changed-" she began.

Remy grabbed her hand and pulled her back gently, "don't...you look _fine._ I like those...Hello Kitty pyjamas..." he eyed her choice of pyjamas critically and gave a vague laugh.

"Don't make fun," she pouted, "they were a present from my mother."

"Oh, I ain't makin' fun," he closed the door after himself, "you got any coffee?" he asked hopefully, "I could really use a good strong cup."

"I just put a pot on," she yawned, moving over to the kitchenette. "I haven't even had breakfast yet."

"Me neither," he admitted. "I guess now it'd technically be lunch though."

"Lunch?" she asked, "is it that late?"

"Yeah, it's two thirty-five," he glanced at his watch casually, "and you're _just _getting up? Late night after I leave? Up all night watchin' movies?"

"No, I fell asleep about twenty minutes after you left. It's just I catch up on a lot of sleep on Sunday," she explained, "I sleep like crap the rest of the week."

"Now I feel bad, I'm probably interruptin' your sleepin'," he admitted, he leaned on the kitchen counter.

"Don't worry, I was done sleeping for the day. Room got too hot."

"Yeah, this summer is really bad. Ain't known one like it in this town."

"It hasn't been this bad in years," Rowan confessed as she retrieved two cups from the cabinet. "Surprised the summer is bothering you...you're _Southern._ Surely you must be used to it."

"Yeah, but...it's been a good while since I been back home, so I've grown accustomed to the normally much colder temperature here," he explained.

Leaving the cups on the counter, she took out a couple of boxes of cereal, "so, sir, what shall it be for lunch?" she shook the boxes. One was Rice Krispies, the other was Cornflakes.

Remy raised an eyebrow, "not got anythin' that's not...you know...breakfasty?"

"Not on hand," she shrugged, "less we go out to eat."

_Bad idea, I don't even got money with me,_ he reminded himself. "You must got somethin' in the fridge," he pushed himself away from the counter and opened the fridge to examine the contents. She didn't have a whole lot in there. Just eggs, milk and cheese. He spied a red pepper down at the back. "Omelette," he supposed.

"I burn those."

"So I'll do it," he started unloading the items.

"You didn't strike me as the kind who could cook," she admitted as she went to pour the coffee.

Remy smirked at her, "you didn't strike me as the type who _couldn't," _he teased.

"Touche," she stuck her tongue out at him.

As he went about making lunch, he felt the apprehension and worry about Rogue's bleeding and Wanda's arrival starting to ebb away slightly. Being in Rowan's company surprisingly _was _helping and he was glad that he had decided to take Logan's advice after all.

He served the food up to her at the island counter, and leaned into kiss her lips softly, "bon appetit."

* * *

When Rogue awoke in the hospital room she felt bewildered, heavy limbed and light headed; she gazed across the too bright room trying to make sense of the situation. She felt faint, dizzy and off kilter as she tried to sit up; an intense pain caught her between the legs and she let out a yelp and grabbed her groin, a handful of blue waffle blanket gathering in her bare fingers.

"How do you feel?"

Rogue swayed her gaze towards Hank McCoy who was sitting at his disorganized desk on the other side of the room. There was concern in his indigo eyes, in the way his jaw seemed to be set and the way his hands were anxiously clutched together.

"Dizzy..." she put a hand weakly to her head, "Ah feel so...spaced..."

"That would be the sedative we had to give you last night and the medication you took this morning," Hank explained, "when Ororo took your medication to you this morning, she wasn't aware you were only to have half the normal dose so you weren't over-exhausted."

"Oh."

"It was careless of me to be sure she understood. I'm very sorry."

Rogue supposed she couldn't blame Hank for neglecting that; he seemed to have a hundred things going on in his life with his research, his experiments, his tinkering with equipment. She found it astonishing he kept track of things as it was.

"You'll be feeling slightly tired the rest of today. You should rest as much as possible."

She winced as she tried to sit up a little more. She tried to remember what had happened, she could almost remember waking up in her own bed, but everything else seemed to be a hazy blur.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you suffered with dysfunctional bleeding?" Hank asked carefully, his expression rather stern.

Her face went hot and she dropped her eyes to the floor. How was she supposed to be able to tell that to Hank or the Professor? What kind of conversation killer was a comment like that? Besides, it wasn't like it was their business, was it? Whatever happened to her body was _her_ concern, not theirs.

"Well?"

"Ah didn't _think _it was dysfunctional. Ah just thought it was _heavy,"_ she finally managed, her tone thick and groggy.

"When Remy brought you down here, it looked far more severe than just a _heavy period, _Rogue. There was blood _everywhere,_ even I haven't seen a bleed like that outside of an emergency room."

Her face grew even hotter, and she felt the heat rising through the rest of her body with pure utter humiliation. It wasn't bad enough _Hank_ had seen the blood, but Remy had seen it _again?_ She felt tears burning her eyes.

"You'll be glad to know you _weren't _in any immediate danger; you are however _anaemic."_

Rogue raised her eyes with great difficulty and looked at the beast, "Ah am?"

"At least during that time," he explained, everything sounding so careful.

She tried to get out of the bed but the pain caught her immediately and she winced. Why did she hurt so much?

"You'll hurt for a little bit," Hank stated, "I tried to be as careful as I could in my examination."

She groaned inwardly, the thought of Hank examining her was more embarrassing than the thing she'd let Remy do to her that one time in the car. She thought of that moment, of the _pain_. It reminded her of right now. Had she been penetrated by something? The thought of that left her queasy.

"Is...is..." she tried to ask and couldn't find the words.

"Pardon?"

"Ah mean," she swallowed hard, "is it...still..." She kept her eyes averted, face burning hot, she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them.

"Your hymen is still in tact, if that's what you're asking."

Shakily, she nodded, her face felt as if it were on fire

"It _is _partially torn however," she felt Hank's gaze steady on her, could feel the worry, the frustration and the embarrassment with this conversation. Even when he'd trained as a Doctor _before _deciding to switch professions to become a science teacher, she realised he'd _probably _never liked examining female patients.

_That's because Remy tore it,_ she wished she had the nerve to say.

"I left you as in _tact _as I could, I didn't have the proper equipment to examine you as completely as you require," he explained, "you really _do _need to visit with a gynocologist, and most likely _will_ tear the entire membrane. Once your cycle has ended we'll arrange an appointment for you."

She winced at the thought of that. It was bad enough now. "Does it have to come to that?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Absolutely. These things must be checked. You're an adult now, Rogue, you require those check ups even if you _don't _have symptoms."

Rogue supposed she had no choice in the matter. Another _condition _of her therapy and recovery she supposed.

"I've given you something to clot the bleeding in the meantime, which should help," Hank explained, "there might be side effects, so if you feel anything out of the ordinary, you must tell me immediately..."

Rogue sighed, "Why was the bleedin' heavier than usual?" she asked.

"I suspect it wasn't. I think what has happened is that under the effects of the medication you may have neglected to change the pad," Hank rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's most likely that you simply continued to bleed and bleed with nothing to stem or absorb the flow which is why it looked so bad this afternoon. You fainted from a mix of the anaemia due to the blood loss and the lingering sedative in your system."

"Can Ah go, now?"

"I'd rather keep you in here for a day or so and monitor you," Hank admitted, "just to be safe."

"Ah don't want to spend all day in here, people will find out, Ah can't have that...it's bad enough _Remy _knows..."

_Might not have seemed so bad if we were at least together and he saw me like that, but right now, when we're meant to be just friends? Jesus, this is so mortifyin'._

"All right," Hank nodded, "but at least get a few hours rest for now. You're still groggy from the sedative and probably not too steady on your feet."

She supposed he was right. Besides, the _pain_ between her legs told her that she should stay put too. At least for this moment in time. Sighing, she lay back and turned to look out of the window. The blinds had been replaced since she'd broken them upon Remy's awakening months before; they looked stronger now, she wondered if that was deliberate.

"Rogue, you're awake," came an enthusiastic voice from the doorway. Rogue didn't have to turn her head to know it was the Professor entering the room. She sighed inwardly, her eyes burning with fresh tears suddenly.

"Why didn't you tell me Wanda was comin'?" she asked quietly, she pursed her lips to stop from sobbing. The past twenty hours had been utterly humiliating and it was going to get worse; she had to see Wanda eventually. Would have to _live _with the girl, would be expected to be civil to her.

"I cannot apologise enough, Rogue," the Professor sighed, she heard the electric wheelchair buzzing its way over as he approached. "It was an oversight. So much has been happening here. I had _intended_ to tell you; I had intended to call a meeting to advise all of you."

Rogue turned slowly to look at Professor Xavier, it was unlike him to be _that _forgetful. It seemed to her that he looked tired and older; she supposed running a house full of teenagers while being responsible for their education, their training _and _attempting to save the world on a regular basis had to take its toll somewhere. "How could you forget?" she still pushed regardless of knowing how it could have happened, how easily it was to be distracted.

Professor Xavier's eyes met with hers, "the night I learned that Wanda would be joining us here was the same night Moira and your doctors at the research facility sent me the conference call to advise you were ready to come home."

Rogue mouthed a silent "oh," and looked away again.

"I know you and Wanda have had...troubles..."

"Troubles?" she gave an absurd laugh, "troubles?! She nearly _killed_ me..."

"Rogue..." the Professor tried.

"She nearly _killed_ Remy too, or did that slip your mind? She _violated_ him too, she near sent him round the bend and over the edge!" she snapped.

"You must understand," Professor Xavier began, "that Wanda struggled to cope with her sanity due to her powers."

"Everyone else manages," Rogue muttered coldly.

"Now, Rogue," Hank spoke up, sounding suddenly quite impatient, "you above _all _people should understand the toll ones powers can take on their sanity, how it can make someone somewhat unstable," he explained, folding his large arms.

"Are you sayin' that Ah'm _crazy _because of-" Rogue sat up straight, wishing she hadn't, she felt it in her groin where some lingering damage had been left through the examination.

"No one is calling you crazy, that word was never uttered once," Hank responded.

"What Hank means is..." the Professor spoke up, "there could be some correlation between what happened to Wanda, and what happened with _you."_

"Excuse me?" Rogue asked. She was having a hard time grasping all of this.

"What he is saying," Hank continued for the Professor, "is that he suspects there's a _possibility_ that Wanda's instability may have been caused by Magneto in the first place," he said quietly.

Rogue blinked, trying to take all this in. Would Magneto have done something like that to his own daughter? "But...Wanda was just...just a kid when he had her locked away..." she whispered.

"Wanda's powers began to manifest at a _very _early age. One of the earliest ages I've ever known of. What I do know is that Wanda was a _very _normal little girl who suddenly quite unexpectedly became unpredictable."

"Perhaps it's just...kids bein' kids," Rogue tried weakly.

"Perhaps," the Professor supposed.

"Or perhaps it was Magneto trying to prevent his daughter from becoming more powerful," Hank spoke up.

Rogue didn't like the thought of it, of Wanda being locked eventually up because her father had decided to put her through a machine or a process he'd thought might help her. It knotted her stomach to think of it, to think of Magneto's _knowing _about that prior to letting Rogue test that process again. It almost made her angry to think that if these things _were _true, that Magneto had known full well what could happen when she'd agreed to test that machine.

"I didn't dare voice these thoughts when you left because I wasn't certain that the assumption could be true and I certainly have no _proof_ other than my own suspicions," Professor Xavier explained, "But...when you returned to us in the condition you were left in, I began to realise perhaps there _was _a connection to it."

Rogue pulled her knees up to her chest, she tried to breath out the nausea these revelations had left her with, "are you sayin' he might have known what could have happened to me? That he didn't _care?"_

"No, I wouldn't say he didn't care, Rogue. I would say that he gets blinded by his intelligence and drive sometimes that he seems to look past his logic and past mistakes."

"Even if..." Rogue began carefully, breathing in and out slowly, trying to fight anxiety before it had the chance to present itself, "even if it's true...why is it Ah'm doin' better?"

"Because you're medicated," Hank spoke up.

Rogue thought about this, thought about all the emphasis that Magneto and the others at the Warehouse had put on Wanda's need for medication and how things had gotten much worse when she stopped taking it. She suddenly thought of her own condition, how much _better _things had felt. "Everyone said Wanda got worse when she didn't take her meds..." she admitted.

"We suspect there's something in the medication that keeps the instability _from _the evolution process at bay but it would need far more research."

"Is Wanda still takin' medication?" Rogue asked quietly.

"At this moment in time I can't confirm that," the Professor explained.

Rogue swallowed hard, "does this mean Ah'm gonna be on this stuff for the rest of my life?" she asked.

The Professor gave her a sympathetic smile, "nothing is set in stone, Rogue, we haven't even begun to fully comprehend exactly what this _is_ yet."

"But that's what Ah have? Ah'm not _crazy,_ it's...it's my _powers?" _she asked hopefully. "It's a _side effect?"_

"You were never crazy, Rogue," Hank said softly, he came over to stand by the bed.

Rogue thought of all the things she'd done that _she'd _have deemed crazy by any other person. How long would it have been before _she _had tried to kill someone, before she'd started becoming promiscuous or taking liberties with people, deliberately trying to get her way? The vomit rose to her throat and she tried to fight it. Hank realised it at once and he grabbed the nearby trashcan and pulled her to lean over it just in time as a little came up. The bitter taste filled her mouth, but not as much as the bitter disappointment filled her heart.

"Why...why are you tellin' me all of this?" she managed, gripping onto the edge of the can.

"So that perhaps you can understand," the Professor put his hand gently upon her back, "please consider these things and give Wanda a chance. I realise her past behaviours were unacceptable, but they _may _have not been completely her fault."

Rogue looked away, it was hard to absorb all this information; so many things she'd seen made sense when these things were being _said. _But she didn't want to believe it_. _It was far easier to feel resentment to Wanda for what she'd done to Remy than to _sympathise _that it might have been because of something her father had done to her to 'help' her.

"Ah think Ah need to lie down now," Rogue sighed as she sank back to the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on clearing her mind completely. She had a lot of thinking to do, but right now was _not _the time to do it.

* * *

Remy opened his eyes some time just after four pm. He hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep at first; he swayed his gaze towards the television in Rowan's living room, it being on with some comedy station showing episodes of The Big Bang Theory. He gave a little yawn and straightened, turning to see Rowan who was curled up near him, a tiny smirk playing about her face.

"Have a nice nap?" she asked in amusement.

"Didn't even realise I fell asleep," he gave a little yawn, "what time is it?"

"After four."

"You should have woke me," he rolled his head a little, "sorry, guess it was a little rude...didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's fine," Rowan gave a soft laugh, "I fell asleep for a little bit too."

He supposed that had to have worked in his favour at least. Sitting watching television like this for the better part of the afternoon – then eventually falling asleep – had felt strangely comfortable and mundane. Left him feeling so strangely normal as if he didn't have a house full of mutants to go back to and probably a Danger Room session to endure tonight.

As he stared towards the television again, he felt Rowan's soft lips brushing against his jaw and trailed them across his neck, he closed his eyes and gave a soft appreciative sigh. She'd already found that little spot that always seemed to turn him to putty in a woman's hands; a place he'd almost _forgotten _about.

He chewed the inside of his cheek as her hand went from his side to his stomach, inching under the front of his t-shirt little by little, brushing against his hard stomach; he chuckled a little, it being ticklish and a little unfamiliar after such a long hiatus from sex.

Rowan broke her lips from his neck and pulled up the front of his t-shirt to look, her expression bewildered for a moment.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, he looked at her worriedly.

"You have a body like those male models I didn't think actually _existed _outside of photoshop..." Rowan breathed, her eyes roving over the hard muscle as she pushed the t-shirt up higher to examine his chest.

"Like what you see?" he teased.

"What do you think?" she smirked, her lips came to meet with his and they kissed softly as her hand explored tentatively in the bumps of his abs.

He was almost content with that, it was innocent enough he supposed, until her fingers grazed just below the waistband of his shorts. He immediately grabbed for her hand, panicking. _No, don't let her go there, no need to disappoint her,_ he told himself as he placed her hand upon his chest. _Play there all you want, Rowan, but for the love of god, don't go down,_ he pleaded with her mentally almost wishing she were telepathic.

Her fingers lightly grazed his nipple, that normally would have been enough to bring on the urge but even that didn't do it. How was he supposed to explain it if she wanted to go further?

_I can't exactly leave right now...or she's gonna know somethin' is wrong, _he realised.

To make a show of being interested, he slipped his hand up the front of her pyjama top and cupped her left breast. It was a very _nice _breast, but somehow the mood just wasn't taking him. He suddenly felt like a sixteen year old on Prom Night with a last minute backup date that didn't do it for him at all and it left him feeling _very _inadequate.

Rowan broke their deep kiss for breath, and she murmured, "do you wanna go to the bedroom?"

"I-" he began, and it was just fortunate that right at that moment Rowan's cheap-looking cell phone on the coffee table began ringing shrilly because he hadn't known exactly _how _to get out of that question without hurting the girl or raising questions.

"Sorry, I have to get this," Rowan said as she quickly picked up the phone and stood up to pace as she answered.

Remy smoothed his t-shirt back down and took a moment to recompose himself, try to relax and figure out what next. He wasn't going to be able to go much further with Rowan without revealing his _problem _to her. He supposed he could always make a show of being there for her, but it'd still leave her with questions if he wouldn't allow _her _the privilege too.

He pretended to not be eavesdropping from Rowan's end of the conversation, he heard her through her bedroom, speaking to whomever was on the other end of the line.

"_What do you mean she just walked out and left her there like that? Did you try calling her? Did she say anything?"_

Remy turned to glance at the bedroom door which hung open; he craned his neck to glance inside as Rowan paced back and forth in front of the bed, phone in hand, frustrated look on her pretty face.

"_Did you call for cover?" _Rowan asked giving a sigh, she rubbed her forehead as if trying to massage away some immediate headache.

Remy stood up and took the used coffee cups to the sink and went to wash them, glad for the momentary distraction from sex or what _could _have come close to it.

"_Okay, fine, I'll be in as soon as I can," _Rowan grumbled to the person on the phone; Remy heard the beep as she hung up the phone. A moment later she returned from the bedroom, and seeing him in the kitchen she made a beeline over.

"Everythin' okay?" Remy asked. He already had a feeling it wasn't; at least not for Rowan by the looks of it.

"One of the weekend nurses up and quit in the middle of bathing one of the female residents; the woman defecated in the bath and that was pretty much it. She just stormed out, didn't tell anyone. She's not going back so I have to go in...there's only one other nurse on duty today and she's _swamped._"

"Yikes," Remy blinked.

"I need to go get ready, is there any chance I can get a ride to work?" she asked hopefully, "I know I'm a pain but-"

"No, you're not...and I don't mind. Go get dressed," He smiled. His smile was genuine. As bad as it was Rowan had to go to work he was _glad_ of it, he was glad this interruption had saved him from any kind of humiliation, saved him from having to explain things to the poor woman.

"I should get out about nine, if...if maybe you want to come over?" Rowan asked, "Or you could come back here and wait until I get home..." she offered.

"I..." he paused, he understood what she was saying. He understood she _wanted _him here, that she was perhaps hoping for a continuation of their encounter. "I wish I could, but I have work really early in the morning – at five. I go to bed at eight pm most nights..."

"Twenty-two year sold and bed at eight pm," she said loudly as she went back to her room, she sounded strangely disappointed and oddly disbelieving.

"Makes me sound like a real square, doesn't it?" he asked with a nervous laugh; he craned his neck to look into the bedroom to see if he could see her changing, but she'd pushed the door too far shut for him to see. "Besides, you shouldn't trust a man you _hardly _know to be alone in your house with all your valuables," he admitted truthfully, "for all you know I could be some kind of Thief, I could rob you blind."

"You're not a thief, Remy," Rowan laughed from the bedroom.

_You don't know me at all, _Remy thought feeling somewhere between smug and concerned about that fact.

"All the same, I can't stay. Besides, I have some training to do at seven," he confessed.

"Training?" Rowan asked, she returned to the living room in her street-clothes, stuffing her nurses uniform into a backpack.

"Workin' out, you know?" he raised his t-shirt and gestured to his stomach with a grin, "you don't end up with a belly like this sittin' on your ass watchin' The Big Bang Theory and eatin' chips."

"Well...maybe you _should _work out," Rowan smirked too, she then gave a sigh, "I'm so sorry about this...really..."

"It's fine," he promised, he led the way to the front door and opened it for her, pulling the car keys for Logan's Jeep out of his pocket.

"Even though we got interrupted?" she asked as she turned off the television and checked everything else that needed to be switched off _was._

Remy waited for her to lock up her apartment, "some things are worth waitin' for, chere. Don't worry. I ain't in any rush to get to the finish line...I'd like to see _some _scenery on the way."

As she locked the door, she turned to look at him curiously, "you're not like many guys I've known, Remy."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he grinned.

The summer sun was still blazing as they got outside the building, and the leather of the driver's seat blazed hot against Remy's thighs as he climbed in.

"This is a pretty nice car," Rowan admitted as she climbed in.

"It's not mine," he reminded.

"I've been saving for a car for the past six years, but every time I get close to a couple of grand, some bullshit debt comes up and needs paid," Rowan muttered.

Remy suddenly wished he had his access to vast wealth as he had in the past; it'd have been quite nice to be able to buy Rowan a car, even if it would have been from ill-gotten gains. He almost considered taking up his _old _profession again, but he decided against it. Rowan didn't seem like the type who needed to be kept and he _certainly _didn't want to be her keeper.

As he drove her to Acorn street, he listened to her playing with the radio; her taste in music was the _one _thing he couldn't stand about her. He supposed there had to be _something _about her that wasn't perfect and this had to be it. How a grown woman could listen to music by Justin Beiber, he had no idea, but he tried to tune it out as best he could.

He parked outside the retirement home and he climbed out, rushing to the other side to open Rowan's door for her, which seemed to surprise her a fair bit. She laughed a little as she got out, taking his hand as if she were stepping out of a carriage.

"Aren't you the gentleman," she teased.

"Try to be," he smiled as he walked her to the door.

"So..." Rowan paused there, "when will I be seeing you again?"

"I may stop in durin' the week," Remy admitted, "I have_ a lot _of stuff to do this week, my schedule is a little crazy, but I'll maybe drive over on a lunch break if I can. But I'll call...and text," he promised, he leaned down to peck his lips against her forehead.

"Don't spend too much time in the sun," she warned him with a grin before she disappeared through the doors.

Remy went back to the hot seat of the Jeep and he sat there for a few moments, his anxiety about the sexual issue starting to dissipate finally. He supposed it could have gone worse. She could have just grabbed him and then she'd have _really _known there was a problem.

_Gotta figure out a way to keep us away from bein' alone together until I get this stupid problem fixed,_ he decided as he turned the key in the ignition. _Just gotta make sure that our next date isn't in her apartment...that way there's no excuse to get all handsy, at least._

He had a feeling that considering his current financial situation, this would be easier said than done.

* * *

**End of Part Twelve**

* * *

**This chapter is a bit longer (and probably a pain to read), which I apologise for. Hopefully it didn't bore you all too much! LOL.**

**Thanks as always to all the reviewers who keep the reviews coming in and keep me motivated. Always love hearing the things you think about the situations and what you think might be going on in the characters heads. It always tickles me when someone predicts something that going to happen in a future chapter before I've even posted it yet, lol. Anyway, hope you all enjoy and have a super weekend. I'm off to slumber land ;) **


	13. Part 13

Slight Return

Part Thirteen

* * *

After a very short nap in his room (the heat taking it out of him) Remy LeBeau went down to dinner almost ten minutes late. He felt two pairs of eyes follow him as he entered the kitchen and walked around the table to get to his usual seat; Rogue and Wanda were looking at him.

He'd been thinking of Rogue ever since he'd left Rowan at her work. He'd tried to go down to the hospital room to check on her (as much as he _hadn't _wanted to see that damn room that had so many unhappy memories of being _confined_ to a bed, and the added panic with Rogue's almost very successful suicide) but Hank had caught him before he'd even gotten halfway there and chased him off.

It was good to see that she seemed to be fine at least; she was sitting there pushing the limp looking salad around the plate, a small beetroot rolling around the plate. At least that was one thing less he had to worry about he supposed. He gave Hank a questioning look wishing he could ask if everything was all right with the girl, but in a room full of people, there wasn't any chance he was going to be allowed to ask. All the same, Hank caught his gaze and returned it with a very small shake of the head and turned his attention back to his meal. It wasn't all right to ask, this wasn't the time or the place.

_Should she be sittin' with the rest of us so casual after bleedin' like that? That wasn't normal, was it? _Remy shrugged it off, dropped into his chair, and apologised. "Sorry showed up so late, I went to lie down for a bit, it's far too hot today. So tirin'."

"Don't worry," said Hank, "most of us are also feeling that."

Remy had expected a little bit more of a reprimand, dinner was supposed to be attended at the right time. The instructors here liked to keep everyone on schedule. He supposed during the summer things were probably a little more lax, but it was hard to be sure when this was his first summer residing here.

"Where have you been all day?" asked Scott Summers casually to Remy as he grabbed a roll from the basket on the table.

Remy always thought it odd when Scott _tried _to be civil to him. They weren't friends and barely spoke; sometimes they argued over petty things. But they never tried to make conversation with each other much. "I went out," he replied. He had to be deliberately vague, Rogue was sitting right there; it was bad enough she probably _remembered _what had happened that early afternoon. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her right now, he was sure if he did all he'd envision were blood smears across her face.

"Well we know _that," _Scott snorted, if the boy hadn't been wearing sunglasses Remy was sure he'd have been rolling his eyes, "I mean what did you get up to?"

Dropping his eyes to the serving dishes, Remy started dishing himself out some salad, "I went for a drive outside of town; went to that huge outdoor market south of Ravenrock. They have a craft fair going on right now."

"They do?" asked Kitty, "what kind of stuff they got?"

Remy groaned inwardly. He'd thought of the lie on cue, he'd seen the flyers for the craft fair lying around in the office at the motel. He hadn't expected to be questioned about it. _Guess that should teach me to stop lying, _he thought dully. He tried to think of the pictures he'd seen on the flyers.

"Hemp bracelets...that chain maille jewellery stuff; I think I saw a chain maille shirt which was pretty awesome. And there was some leather craft stuff and handmade pottery...all kinds of crap."

"Did you buy anything?" asked Jean.

Remy popped a cherry tomato in his mouth, "with _what_? There are homeless guys in Bayville Park that got more cash than I do right now."

"If you need money, you should just _say,_" said Jean.

Scott elbowed her roughly and she threw a dirty look at him, "don't encourage him," Scott muttered at her. "We had to make it on our own steam-"

"I never asked for _anythin'_ from _no one_ and don't intend to start," Remy snapped. He felt Wanda's eyes shift to him, it left him uncomfortable, which was odd for him. Normally, he _never _felt awkward running into someone he'd slept with, never regretted, never felt remotely self-conscious, but today as Wanda stared at him, he felt incredibly awkward and tense.

He played it off, he was good at lying and good at acting, and if anyone suspected his true feelings, nothing was said. He ate in silence, listening to the others speaking about perhaps going to the craft fair themselves. Finally Remy swayed his gaze to Rogue when he was sure she wasn't looking in his general direction. Her eyes were set upon the middle of the table but she seemed to be seeing very little of anything. Her fork seemed to dangle from her fingers rather than rest in them; she'd barely touched her salad from what he could tell.

She looked so pale, paler than she had all week; he supposed that might be something to do with the loss of blood. He could still see it bright and red in his mind and he shuddered inwardly. He'd never seen a woman bleed like that before, and it disturbed him.

_It's probably normal. If it wasn't, there's no way that Hank would let her sit here, he's paranoid about the health of the people he cares about. He wouldn't put her at risk like that. _

Rogue still hadn't raised her eyes from the same spot they had been in for the past four minutes; he wondered if she was simply trying to avoid gazing at Wanda who was at the far end of the table beside Logan but on closer inspection it seemed she wasn't all that present. _Is she out of it?_ Remy wondered, feeling a horrible cold feeling in the pit of his stomach; he had a hard time swallowing his food now.

_She's been fine all week...why now?_ He wondered. He couldn't help but swing his gaze towards Wanda, wondering if she had something to do with it. Wanda gave a strange, nervous smile at him and dropped her eyes anxiously to her plate. That said plenty to him. Yes, that was something to do with it. What exactly, he wasn't particularly sure, but there was a connection. Wanda _never _usually seemed that nervous.

Dinner felt uncomfortable after this and his appetite felt suddenly quite as poor as Rogue's seemed to be tonight. He ate as much as his appetite would allow for and skipped dessert although remained at the table; he took his time drinking his glass of ice water and watching Rogue.

_You've been waitin' for this to happen all week, for the signs to start that she _isn't _as together as everyone wanted to think,_ he thought at himself. _Shame it had to start so soon._

He was thankful at least that his body seemed to know that right now was _not _the time to be having one of the usual spontaneous reactions it usually did in the company of the girl. In fact, he was relieved that for the moment he didn't have to endure that torture on top of everything else.

After dinner, everyone made their beeline to enjoy the rest of the lovely evening outside by the pool; the air had begun to cool a little, and the sun had moved behind the trees filtering a lovely dappled light over the grounds. Remy followed them out and hung around a little while; it seemed for tonight the Danger Room session that had been scheduled was postponed; Remy wondered if that was due to Rogue's condition or merely because everyone wanted to be outside by the pool.

Either way, he sat by the pool for a while and chatted with Jean about the crafts fair (hoping she couldn't pick up on the fact he was lying). She was interested in finding out if they sold a lot of supplies, he'd lied and told her they did and he only _hoped _that if the others did decide to take the trip out there that there would at least be a stall or two out there to keep the lie going.

_It's just easier to lie than come out and say that I'm seein' a girl and I don't want Rogue knowin',_ Remy supposed as his eyes trailed over the others. Some were playing Marco Polo in the pool, some were running around having tickle fights or trying to pour cups of ice water over each other. The sound of laughter rung in the air sweet like the hum of honey bees in a flower garden.

Remy might have felt at peace and content if it weren't for the nagging feeling that something was wrong. His eyes searched the area for Rogue and he found her to be sitting next to Logan on a bench near the mansion, saying nothing, hands on her lap. Logan was twirling a cigar anxiously in his fingers, but he hadn't lit it. Rogue was simply staring at the sandstone slabs beneath her feet.

_She's bein' supervised again, damn it, that's not good,_ Remy winced. Despite his instincts telling him not to try and involve himself further, he felt a bewildering sense of obligation to be her friend, to _try _to be a good friend and be there, or...at least do something other than sit watching from afar feeling guilty about something that had nothing to do with him anyway.

Sighing, he pushed himself up from the lounger he'd been stretched out on and travelled across the patio to approach them both. Logan looked up, but Rogue didn't. Remy tried to speak to Logan with a single look. His expression asked _how _Rogue was. Logan gave a conflicted wince, still twirling the cigar absently.

"Rogue..." Remy tried gently, "do you maybe feel like goin' for a walk on this lovely night?"

Rogue's eyes didn't even _raise_ from their spot, she gave a very slow and steady shake of her head, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed just a little. She said not a word.

"Seems a shame to just sit there in the shade," Remy tried, not sure really _what _he was trying to do other than perhaps take her out of that strange spell she seemed to be under.

Logan seemed to bite a piece of hard skin from his bottom lip, then he spat it with that he stood up, "I need to go have a smoke," he announced, but his look said _sit with her until I get back._ Remy gave a small discrete nod to the older man.

Remy watched Logan wandering off to the direction of the garage which was where he always stood to smoke on his own. He took the seat where Logan had been, wincing at how warm it had been left due to the body-heat. It was warm enough this evening without the seat being hot due to someone else's backside.

"How you feelin'?" Remy asked, deciding to be direct about the situation rather than _pretend_ as if it hadn't happened. There was no point in trying to pretend like Rogue hadn't seemed close to death that afternoon.

Rogue gave a strange shrug, and an oddly unhappy sigh; her eyes seemed slightly misty. Remy turned to look at her; he read her expression as troubled and extremely lost. Trying to be very careful about how he approached the situation, he took her gloved hand from where it lay on the bench and he squeezed it tightly.

Whether it was the words, or the gesture, Remy was unsure, but she raised her eyes and finally slowly turned to look at him, her green eyes softly gazing at his.

"You had me a little worried, you know," Remy said very gently, he squeezed her hand a little harder, "glad to see you're feelin' better..."

Her eyes dropped again to the cement.

Remy could feel Wanda's intense eyes on them both from where she sat alone at the roots of an old oak on the grounds, it left his neck feeling tight at the thought of it and he pushed himself to ignore the thought.

"You sure you don't want to go for a walk?" he asked, keeping his voice soft and light; he needed to get out of Wanda's field of vision; he didn't want her watching, at least if they took a walk in the rose garden Wanda wouldn't be able to see them past the hedges and shrubs.

Rogue shook her head slowly and carefully.

"Might make you feel better."

"Hurts," she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh..." he mouthed silently. What hurt, he wasn't sure but he was particularly certain that it wasn't polite to ask. Judging by the blood _something _had to hurt. He hoped it was merely cramps she was referring to and not something perhaps a little more serious.

"That's okay," he let go of her hand and placed it back down upon the bench, but he patted it gently, "we can just sit here...talk..."

Rogue sighed again, it seemed she didn't know what to say.

Remy looked around absently, and his eyes caught the trellis on the wall just behind the bench; dusky pink flowers nearly the size of his hand adorned thick lush green leaves and twisted curling vines. He snapped a flower off casually and twisted it between his fingers, "nice flower," he admitted, twirling it absently, "know what it is?"

_Yep, this is pretty much as bad as you've gotten at small talk. Nice flower,_ he thought at himself in disgrace.

Rogue's eyes shifted to see what was in his hand, her voice was tiny as she responded, "clematis."

"Sounds like somethin' sexual," Remy confessed, he raised it to his nose to check for a scent but couldn't particularly smell anything. "When I heard the Professor say yesterday that his clematis was comin' up, I thought it was some kind of rash on his dick or something."

Rogue gave a faint laugh; she might have been distant but at least she still had the decency to laugh at a bad joke.

"Glad to know I was wrong there," Remy confessed, he handed her the flower. "The thought the guy even _has _a dick is disturbin' enough without the thought that he has clematis all over it."

Rogue raised the flower to her nose too, she seemed to agree there was no smell judging by the small shrug she gave. After a moment, she said softly, "he has a son, you know."

Remy blinked and turned to Rogue, "what? Seriously? How the fuck do I _not _know that?"

Rogue gave a tiny shrug again.

"You're not shittin' me, are you?" Remy asked, "'cause I always figured he was like one of those Ken dolls...nothin' below, just little mounds of plastic where the junk ought to be..."

"No, he has a son," Rogue assured, "His name is David."

Remy raised an eyebrow, "How come no one ever says anythin' about it? Where is the kid?"

"We're not really meant to talk about it," Rogue confessed.

"Here I was always assumin' the guy was probably a virgin."

"He wasn't always in a wheelchair."

"You ever see him when he wasn't?" Remy asked.

Rogue shook her head, "No. Seen a picture of him once with hair though...would it sound weird if Ah said he was better bald?"

Remy gave a vague laugh, "maybe. Once I was snoopin' through some of Magneto's shit and I saw of Magneto with really big hair, I guess it was the sixties or somethin'...it took a lot of control to keep a straight face for weeks every time I saw him after that."

Rogue didn't like the mention of Magneto, and he could tell. After all this time, all these months it was _still_ too sore a point, Magneto was still an uncomfortable subject to be brought up.

As awkward as it felt, Remy couldn't deny that being able to talk to her again like this felt good. It reminded him of _better _times, before everything had gone awry. He'd been avoiding her all week not wanting to really rekindle the friendship after what she'd done but now...he wasn't so sure he wanted to play the avoidance game anymore.

Feeling the tension from Wanda's staring get to him, finally he swung his gaze towards the dark haired girl to check, she was most definitely looking. She was holding a book but as far as he could tell her eyes were nowhere _near _those pages.

_Why the fuck does she keep starin' at me? What the fuck is her problem?_ Remy thought, feeling a shiver down his spine despite the intense heat.

"Wanna go inside?" Remy asked quietly, he hoped yes. He didn't like having an audience.

Rogue gave a slight nod; she was the first to try and stand and he saw her wince. He stood up quickly and took a hold of her arm.

"Whoah, you okay?" he asked worriedly. Yes, there was pain in her eyes, he saw the glimmer of a tear at the corner of her left eye.

"Ah'm fine, it just..." she tried, and finally she sighed; despite her being stronger than he was, she held onto him.

They were adults, they were _friends,_ why did it have to be so secretive and awkward? Why couldn't she just say what it was?

"Was it the examination?" Remy asked gently, holding onto her arm and leading the way inside, they walked slowly, each step careful and precise.

Rogue gave an unhappy and rather embarrassed sigh, but said nothing.

"You don't _have _to feel embarrassed about it," he admitted, "Jesus, I've seen enough pussies in my time to _know _they get hurt every now and then."

Rogue turned to look at him with some horror in her face. All right, so it _wasn't cool _to use the 'P' word. He made a note to definitely _not _use the 'C' word either.

"What I mean is," Remy sighed, "clearly I'm _not _a child. If somethin' hurts, just say it, don't be all awkward and vague about it. We're friends, we should be able to talk to each other, right? I mean, Jesus, I told _you _when that catheter was hurtin' the fuck out of my dick," he reminded. "Also...you've _seen _my dick. More than once..." he added. He wished he hadn't brought it up, it briefly made him consider the things she'd _probably _done to him that he _couldn't_ remember precisely.

Rogue rolled her eyes at him and looked away, walking slightly ahead, his hand still on her elbow. Her limp was more than obvious, yes, there was definite pain. He thanked his stars that he had been born male.

_Maybe the examination broke her or somethin'...that can happen, right?_ He thought. Although he'd had no choice about taking her to Hank if that were the case, he still felt somewhat guilty that it might be his _fault_ if this were true.

"Ah don't want to talk about it," Rogue commented, "It was horrible and Ah want to forget."

He supposed he couldn't argue, he certainly wanted to pretend like nothing had happened between himself and her before his coma, so why not allow her the right to pretend none of this had ever happened and this morning had never occurred? It was only fair he supposed.

Without so much as talking about it, they both made their way to the recreation room. The blinds were shut, the ceiling fans were on and the room was cool and dim, a welcome relief from the summer heat outside. Rogue lowered herself slowly onto the couch at one end and went about untying her boots before kicking them off. Remy took the other end, feeling it was probably best to leave a good spot of space between them (and besides, it gave Rogue room to put her feet up).

In his pocket, he felt the vibration of his cheap phone and he removed it to check, finding a message notification on the screen. Tilting the phone away from Rogue a little, he read the text message from Rowan.

"_**Work is a nightmare. Miss u already." **_claimed Rowan's text.

Remy briefly glanced to Rogue who was sitting channel surfing, and then quietly tapped in the response. _**"Miss u too," **_and hit send. He left the phone on his knee and thought about Rowan at work. As much as he had wanted to spend the _entire _day with her, he was glad she'd been called away...at least he didn't have any awkward explanations to make.

_Would Rowan understand?_ Remy pondered, as he stared at the television, not quite seeing it all the same. _She's a nurse, she probably knows a thing or two. Maybe I should just come clean, admit it, things ain't worked since the coma. If I'm gonna make a go at this thing with her then I'm gonna have to be honest at some point. If we're gonna be together then...it's somethin' we'd need to face together, right?_

All the same, Remy winced at the thought of trying to explain it to the _first _girlfriend he'd ever really had.

_She's not the first. Rogue was the first, I just...don't really feel like she was though,_ he thought dully.

"There's nothing on," Rogue muttered, breaking him out of his troubled thoughts, she was still flicking from channel to channel, a bored sigh escaped her lips.

"So put on a DVD," Remy suggested.

"What do you feel like watchin'?" Rogue turned slowly and gazed at him, her soft green eyes meeting with his.

"I don't know, I-" the phone on his knee buzzed again, he put his hand upon it to silence it. Rogue glanced down curiously but didn't ask. Remy thought for a moment, trying to distract her from the phone, "How about Family Guy or somethin'? I'm _sure_ I saw those DVDs lyin' around the other night."

"Yeah, we'd get in trouble, the Professor _hates_ it when he catches anyone here watchin' that 'cause of the fun they make of disabled people in it. I think they got confiscated."

Remy shrugged, "I don't know then, just put a sitcom or somethin' on, I don't care. Must be somethin' on that's somewhat watchable."

As Rogue was still going through the channels, Remy quickly checked the next message from Rowan.

"_**R you sure u can't come over tonite?"**_ Rowan was asking.

Remy sighed inwardly. It wasn't that he couldn't come over. He could go over, he supposed, but that would be all he could do. It was too early in the relationship to put a dampener on it by revealing his struggles. It was better to just avoid the situation completely for the moment. Quietly, he tapped in the next response while Rogue wasn't paying attention, "_**About 2 go 2 bed, absolutely exhausted. Had pretty hectic work out. Back is aching. Wouldn't b much good 2 u. lol."**_

Rowan's text back was faster than he'd anticipated. _**"I trained in massage therapy, u know."**_

** "**Who do you keep texting?" Rogue suddenly asked, he turned to look at her. He hadn't even realised she'd been paying _that _much attention. He'd made _sure _she hadn't been looking.

"My boss," Remy replied, he flipped the cheap phone shut. _No, actually it's the girl I'm seein' who pretty much is askin' for sex and I can't give it to her because _you _broke me,_ Remy thought dully at her. He pocketed the phone, he'd have to ignore any further messages for now. Rowan would either assume he was avoiding her or that he'd simply missed any further messages.

"You have to go in tonight?" Rogue asked casually, she sat switching more channels, her eyes had that unfocused look about them again, the one that worried him just a little.

Remy realised he _could _always make that excuse, borrow a car overnight and go out to stay at Rowan's if the mood took him. Rogue would never need to know, no one would get hurt with his lie. Of course, it didn't solve the problem of what he would _do _with Rowan once he got there.

_Oral, probably,_ he reckoned. _Ain't much more I could offer her right now than that. Not that it wouldn't be enough for her, it's one of the things I'm good at, but it'd raise questions later. Especially if she tried to reciprocate..._

He stared at the screen, channels switching faster than he could keep up with, a blur of station upon station, commercial upon commercial. _Maybe I could pretend to be abstainin' until marriage...would that work? Would that be laughable?_

The thought of himself abstaining out of _choice_ almost made him want to laugh out loud. He might have, had the whole situation not been so terribly tragic and confusing.

Rogue got up awkwardly to look through a pile of DVDs in the cabinet under the television and as she got onto her knees to bend over and lean down to examine the pile, Remy couldn't _help himself,_ he gazed towards her backside instinctively, it was like she was magnetic and he couldn't _stop _his eyes from being drawn there. The awkward lust immediately began to burn him hotter than the sun outside and he winced, grabbing a nearby throw cushion and putting it on his lap, pretending to be using it to lean on for comfort rather than to hide his _discomfort._

_Fuck, not this again,_ he groaned inwardly. The phone was vibrating in his pocket now and that _certainly_ wasn't helping. _You gotta be kiddin' me,_ he winced, he removed the phone from his pocket and checked the message while Rogue was distracted.

_"__**Just think about it, I'll be home at 9pm,"**_Rowan pleaded.

Remy's eyes fell to Rogue's backside again, he was somewhere between disgusted with himself that he could think like this after seeing all that blood this morning, and caught between thoughts of how good it might feel to grind himself up against that backside, period or not.

_Jesus, stop it, you don't need a repeat of last Saturday, for fucks sake,_ he told himself sternly.

"Indiana Jones?" she asked finally.

"Yes," he said quickly.

As she put the DVD in to the player, he crossed his legs, sat sideways and let his elbow sit on the cushion. He turned the vibration feature _off _on the phone and pocketed it. He'd have no more trouble from it. Now he just had to focus on not letting anything else get to him. Easier said than done.

* * *

**End of Part Thirteen**

* * *

**A nice short chapter but at least Remy is making some progress in trying to rekindle his friendship with Rogue for now, lol. Thanks to all who reviewed the last update and who have added me to their follow list, it always surprises me how many people want to read these stories! It's insane that more than TWO people would want to read anything I have to write lol. You're all so generous and awesome with feedback and reviews and adding me, it's a real pick me up from my very dull ordinary life (where I barely if at ALL exist to many, lol). Hope to have another part up for the weekend if I find time (birthday celebrations, yay, I get to pretend to be pleased I'm a year older, ugh). Hope you all liked this little chapter and I hope you all have super weekends. Love you all!**


	14. Part 14

**Slight Return**

**Part Fourteen**

* * *

Wanda Maximoff was starting to get on Rogue's nerves.

It wasn't any _one _thing the girl did either. Wanda had done nothing _personally _to her in the short time she'd been staying at the mansion. In fact, the girl was quiet, reserved and did very little to interfere with any one else's life; she rarely even spoke up much. Rogue knew better than to trust it of course; past experience had taught her Wanda was a trouble maker, loud and obnoxious. It was only a matter of time before Magneto's daughter showed her _true _colours.

That was what was getting on Rogue's nerves, it was the waiting for that day and it not arriving. Knowing that somewhere the _shit _was going to hit the fan and being on the edge of her seat for the day it would come.

It was hard being in the same room as the girl, dinner times were difficult, and it took careful planning of taking her medications two hours before just so she felt remotely calm enough to even _be _in the same room as her. She couldn't explain it; she _understood_ the situation as best she could, that possibly everything Wanda had ever said or done might be an underlying condition caused by _Magneto's interference. _It didn't make it any easier to be in her presence, remembering the _horrible _things she had done to Remy, remembering that she _herself_ had almost died at the hands of the raven haired beauty.

Sitting at the dinner table with Remy _and _Wanda was such a torture, looking between them both knowing things had happened that Remy didn't even seem remotely aware of. Wanda would sit there, looking at Remy every now and then, furtive little glances with the odd shyness that didn't fit the normally bold girl's character.

_Only a matter of time,_ Rogue thought that Thursday evening; it was dinner time and meatloaf was on the table which usually caused quite a stir when it was Jean who made it (as much as Rogue disliked the girl at times, her meatloaf recipe couldn't be faulted at least). Rogue glanced across the table at Wanda who was eating quietly at Hank McCoy's side; the girl always seemed to be sat beside an instructor which told Rogue that _she _was on supervision.

_Somethin' to be thankful for, Ah guess,_ Rogue decided as she sipped her water. Her eyes swayed in Remy's direction, he was digging into his food like a man on death row. He hadn't even gotten home until an hour ago which Rogue found bizarre as she'd taken note of his shift at work usually finishing at twelve judging by the hour later he'd saunter through the door. It had been the second time this week he'd come home much later than expected.

_Where is he spendin' all his time?_ Rogue wondered, she cut into her meatloaf and chewed a little although her appetite wasn't good today; she felt a little sick from the medication. Part of her didn't want to think of what Remy did in his spare time, she had no _right_ to wonder what kind of personal life he had that _didn't _include her but she was starting to suspect he may be sleeping around.

Normally after his work, he'd come home looking tired and grouchy, which she'd always found understandable considering the things he usually had to tackle at work, but on the days he came home late his mood was normally quite upbeat and jolly. Much more like the Remy LeBeau she'd known long before she'd ever considered joining the Acolytes.

Knowing his mentality and knowing him inside and out as well as she did now, she was well aware there was only _one _thing that tended to put him in _that _good of a mood; getting off in some way or another...it always did the trick for him, always made him his happiest, his most content and cheery. She winced at the thought of him bed-hopping; she still had the vaguest recollections of the things he'd done in the past from memories long since absorbed. The details were hazy but the awareness of it was there all the same. She didn't like the thought of him doing that again. Whether it was her business or not, it was irresponsible and he was likely to catch something if he wasn't careful.

For the past few months she'd been trying to force it out of her mind that there was a high possibility that he was going out with various girls while she was gone. It was easy to pretend things _weren't _happening when she wasn't there to witness it.

Now however there was a very high suspicion that something was going on. For the past week she'd been trying to do as she had on the Island. Pretending Remy's love life simply didn't exist. But he'd started checking his phone a lot, smirking in secret amusement to himself when he thought no one was looking. All of this was completely impossible to ignore. There was _someone _he hadn't told her about...there were probably _many _someones knowing Remy LeBeau.

_Maybe Ah should ask him?_ Rogue pondered after dinner as she followed the others to the Rec Room; tonight there was a heavy summer thunderstorm and the rain was pelting down outside so much that it was impossible to enjoy the evening. It had occurred to Rogue all through dinner that Ororo Munro was probably the _cause _of this weather; she'd been a little flushed, irritable and tired. Rogue suspected PMS, and almost couldn't blame her.

_If Ah controlled the weather...it'd be Tsunamis and Monsoons every time Ah got on the rag,_ Rogue thought dryly as she dropped into an armchair in the Rec room; she'd tried to make a grab for the remote but Kurt Wagner had beat her to it by teleporting to it before she could. She was too defeated and feeling deflated about the situation regarding Remy's secrets to complain or put up a fight for the remote. She didn't care that much for what was on television at this time of the evening anyway.

She sat there for a while in the chair not particularly enjoying the pointless quiz show that Kurt chose to make them all endure. All the same, she was feeling mellow and almost _enjoying_ the strange spaced out haze her anxiety medication left her with. It almost made the situation tolerable in ways she couldn't explain, it took the edge off in ways no one else would have ever understood.

_Should have let them medicate me when this thing began, maybe I wouldn't have fucked up so badly before...maybe things would have worked out, _she thought drearily, her eyes fell on Remy who was sitting at the end of the couch pushed between the arm and Amara (who disliked him and made a show of making sure he knew she thought he was taking up too much room). Remy was checking his phone again, but in a very uninterested almost subtle way.

_He's tryin' to pretend he's not waitin' for the next text to come,_ Rogue frowned a little to herself, she tried to ignore it. _Stop it, it's his life, you got no say._

Logically, she agreed with the advice, intellectually, she wanted to take her own advice. Emotionally, she wanted to throw the advice out of the window, approach him and tell him she was still mad about him and that she didn't want him dating _any _one else. The selfish part of her felt that if she couldn't have him, no one else should.

The unselfish part of her wanted him to be happy, to move on, live life as best he could and enjoy it; being a mutant was hard enough, happiness had to be grabbed where it lay...

But damn that selfishness was strong. If she couldn't be happy should _he _have the right to?

Right now she had somewhat of an inkling the medication _might _be stronger than her emotions...at least right now she could have these feelings _without _the accompanying anxiety and tears that usually accompanied them.

She pushed the thoughts out of her head and tried to enjoy the television show regardless of finding it boring. Everything felt calm and almost normal until Wanda wandered through after having left the kitchen finishing up with the dishes she'd been asked to help clear away.

Rogue's eyes couldn't help but follow the girl from one side of the room to the other; everything about her was _different _these days; the way she dressed so modestly, the way she toned down her makeup, the way her hair was growing out. She was like a different person, not quite a shadow of herself but a _subtle _version and Rogue didn't want to trust that.

_Too good to be true,_ Rogue thought feeling slightly furious at the idea that a machine could change Wanda in _that _way but could leave herself a wreck. Rogue watched Wanda give a small brief almost nervous glance to Remy before dropping her gaze as she took a place at one of the computers at the back of the room and went to log into her Facebook account. Remy seemed none the wiser at least, sitting there texting deftly on his phone, his expression disinterested with what was going on around him.

_Who the hell is he textin' with?_ Rogue wondered again. A leggy tan blonde? An exotic dark haired beauty with deep olive skin and ebony eyes? Perhaps a dark-skinned goddess with thick curling hair and full ripe lips. Perhaps all three at once...she wouldn't put it past him. Whoever was making him so interested in texting _definitely _wasn't to do with work.

_Just go and ask him,_ Rogue told herself as she chewed the inside of her cheek, watching him intently. _ At least then you'll know. If he tells you, then you can just pretend to be supportive, say it's great, that you're glad he's moving on, that he's found someone. _

_ Course...if he tells you, then you'll know...and you might have to hear about how great and beautiful she is...you might need to meet her? What then?_

Something hit her and she blinked; she felt whatever it had been land upon her lap and caught it just as it nearly rolled off her knee; it was a crumpled up ball of paper and she glanced around to see who had thrown it and realised it had been Kitty who had been sitting writing in her journal at the other end of the room.

Kitty threw her a dangerous look then looked down pointedly at the ball of paper. She was supposed to look at it, apparently. Rogue carefully un-crumpled the ball of paper and read the words scrawled in purple pen...in Kitty's chicken-scratch handwriting, it declared '_stop staring!_'.

_Ah can't help it,_ Rogue thought miserably. It seemed unfair to be asked to stop when it wasn't as if it were something she had control over. Remy had been her first love, and still _was _as much as she would like to deny it. It was hard being in the same room, pretending like friendship would always be enough. She couldn't _ignore _him; he was still very much a part of her life.

Rogue sighed and pushed herself up from her chair and without word, left the rec room to head upstairs. _Fine. If Ah have to stop staring, then Ah might as well leave the room. That'll make it easier,_ she thought bitterly as she made her way down the dim halls and made it to the foyer. She'd barely gotten to the bottom step on the staircase when she heard a voice calling after her.

"You're being _so _obvious."

Rogue turned to look at Kitty, who had followed her. The girl stood there in the hall with her journal dangling from her delicate fingers. "Hmm?" she asked, trying to play innocent already knowing it was pointless to even try.

"Every time he's sitting there with that phone, you keep looking at him, _wondering_ who he's talking to," Kitty said knowingly.

The two began walking slowly up the stairs together. Rogue shrugged, "don't you wonder who it is he's texting with all the time?"

"No, I don't. Why would I?" Kitty asked quietly, "not my business. And it's not yours either. You just have to stop thinking about him now, Rogue. It won't _help_ anything."

It didn't matter what the petite brunette claimed...Rogue was positive that Kitty had to have wondered too, or she wouldn't have taken the time to notice either. "Maybe it's his dealer," Rogue uttered quietly. Now that she thought about it, that could be a possibility, she supposed. Perhaps he _wasn't_ getting off? Perhaps these good moods were simply that he was _high. _It seemed to her he had to have been high to have come up with a story about going to a craft fair. Since when did someone like Remy LeBeau have an interest in _that _kind of thing? Arts and crafts was a cover story, she wasn't stupid, it was so unbelievable and she couldn't even believe he'd gotten away with it, that no one had given a second thought about it.

Kitty gave a vague laugh, "he's not on drugs, trust me."

"How would you know?"

"Went through his crap while he was at work like you _asked _me to. Even though it's _totally _against my morals to snoop I did it anyway – since _he _did it to me and all. I went through _everything_, trust me, there isn't so much as an _aspirin _in that bedroom," Ktty shrugged. "He's not on anything...I've been watching."

"Maybe he's just hiding the stuff?"

"I was thorough...I checked under floorboards, in bed mattresses. Look, if someone _knows _where to hide things like that, it's _me, _okay?" Kitty explained, "he's clean. He's sober, and clean and living a pretty decent life..."

Rogue would like to think it was drugs that accounted for those good moods, at least then it _wouldn't _be a woman...or several women.

"It's a girl then," Rogue despaired.

"So what if it is?" Kitty asked with a groan. She didn't want to have this conversation, and she didn't want Rogue to be asking these questions.

Rogue had no answer. There _was _no answer.

"Look, even if it _is _a girl, and I'm not _saying_ it is," Kitty began very carefully, her blue eyes serious, her expression oddly tight, "I don't think he's...you know, doing stuff."

"Doing stuff?" Rogue raised an eyebrow. Why did Kitty _always _have to be so polite when it came to these issues?

"Sex, okay?" Kitty rolled her eyes, her cheeks growing pinker.

"What makes you think that?" Rogue asked quietly, she stopped at the top of the stairs. If there was a girl, there _had _to be sex. It was out of his character, Remy didn't spend time with girls if he _wasn't _getting something out of it. Even when they had dated briefly he'd initiated that first encounter, he'd _wanted _something out of it.

Kitty sped up a little in her walk up the stairs, she seemed eager to avoid the question, "just a hunch."

"Oh come on, _something _must have made you think that..." Rogue tried.

"Nothing made me think it," Kitty replied, "it's just a thought it is all."

"You _know _something, don't you?" Rogue asked knowingly.

After a moment of hesitation, Kitty sighed, "well..."

"Well what?"

"Look, maybe I've got it wrong, I don't know..." Kitty tried.

"Just _tell _me..."

"I don't want to get your hopes up...I don't want to mess up your recovery or anything," Kitty groaned.

"My recovery _isn't _going to be messed up. Look, if he's moved on, whatever, fine. I'd just like to _know. _Otherwise it's going to drive me crazy," Rogue explained. "So tell me..."

"Fine," Kitty grunted, "I've gone through his room a few times, just to be _sure_ that it wasn't drugs..." Kitty began to explain, she took a deep breath, "Anyway, I checked the drawer in that cabinet by his bed..."

"And?"

"And...he's had the same pack of condoms _unopened_ in his drawer for the past week."

That was odd, Rogue supposed, but not _unrealistic. _Perhaps he had a few in his wallet he'd been using? It didn't _mean _he wasn't being active with other women did it? She didn't want to let it get her hopes up, just like Kitty had suggested, she _knew _it could hinder her recovery if she let it get too far. "So?"

"Well.." Kitty continued, "the pack was in the bag from the drug store he bought them from and the receipt was still in there...so I looked at it. He bought those condoms months ago...and hasn't used them _yet._"

"That doesn't prove anything," Rogue finally said after a moment of contemplation. "He might have some in his wallet...or...maybe he's just...you know, not _using _them," Rogue suggested, pained at the thought of it. There'd been a _couple _of incidents in his life he'd forgone that option but usually it wasn't _completely _carelessly. Only one careless time stood out in Rogue's mind; his encounter with Wanda in the Laundry room at the warehouse. Rogue shuddered to think of the rough sex between Remy and Wanda that had practically shook the machine more than the drying cycle had.

"I guess you're right," Kitty continued walking again, Rogue followed to catch up. "But either way, it's not our business. He's a grown man...whatever he does when he's not here...that's up to him."

Rogue had the feeling if the discussion had been about _Lance Alvers,_ Kitty's attitude may be slightly different. "Look, he can do what he likes. Ah'm fine with it if he wants to go screwin' around. Believe it or not Ah _want _him to be happy..." Rogue tried. It was true, she _did _want him to be happy. It'd just have been much easier if he could have been happy with _her_.

Kitty looked strangely disbelieving of this, and slightly worried that this _might _be disturbing her therapy progress.

"Ah just...Ah don't like the secrets," Rogue admitted.

With a disbelieving laugh, Kitty shook her head and looked away.

"What?" Rogue demanded suddenly impatient, "what's funny?"

"You've had enough of them yourself, you can hardly comment on _his."_

Rogue frowned a little, "huh?"

"What's your _real _name again?" Kitty asked pointedly and smirked just a little.

"We're talkin' about Remy, not me," Rogue remarked irritably. She hated it when people tried to turn things arund on her.

"Look, just let it go. You're better off _not _knowing if he's screwing around or if he has someone new. Take it from _me,_" Kitty said, her eyes suddenly a little sad, "I went through it and it only makes it _harder_...you're better off _not _knowing. Once you know, you can't _unknow _it."

"Ah suppose," Rogue sighed. She thought about it; Kitty's words weren't technically true. Things could be forgotten, locked away, pushed to the back of minds. Or they could be stolen forever more like the memories she'd stolen from Remy. Those things could be unknown.

But Kitty was probably right in the long run, if she knew what Remy was getting up to with other girls now...it would only make it harder to move on. It was better just pretending for the time being to be none the wiser, to try and be happy for the boy. If he was going to tell her, he would in his own time. For now, she had to just had to go on telling herself everything was fine.

* * *

Remy LeBeau was growing tired of Wanda Maximoff staring at him. He'd been able to play it off, act as if she hadn't thrown so much as a sneaky little glance at him, but he felt it, felt those intense eyes of hers on him and it left him _very _uncomfortable.

From the moment she'd stepped into the rec room until the moment it hit nine pm and it was time to go bed, he'd felt those eyes on him every so often. It was getting frustrating pretending to not notice; it was hard enough pretending to not notice when _Rogue _did it, but at least in her case it was _understandable. _He was _allowing it_ simply because he felt as if she were strangely _entitled._

_ I have a history with Rogue, she probably has a _right _to look at me,_ he supposed. _Wanda however...just a notch in the bedpost..._

In his room, he paced a little; being watched so much had left him feeling quite up tight despite his usual exhaustion at this time of night and he'd had to pace off a little of the nervous energy before he could settle. He checked his phone, text message from Rowan. All throughout the few hours he'd spent in the Rec Room Rowan and himself had exchanged texts about their favourite movies, what they had for dinner, what music they were listening to lately. But now...the subject matter was changing...she was urging him to come over. It seemed innocent enough a suggestion but he read it as an unspoken request for him to _spend the night,_ put very subtly in suggestions they watch a movie and share a bottle of wine and a pizza.

The idea was tempting, until it would get to the end of the film when the wine and pizza were finished and then there would be a bed to be shared and expectations to be met beneath the sheets of that bed.

He couldn't meet those expectations, at least not _fully._ There was only so much he and his talented fingers and tongue could do to keep her entertained...but eventually she was going to think something might be wrong if he didn't want her touching him and if he tried to hold her back. And he'd have to...it was the only way to avoid her knowing the truth.

_I was an idiot thinking I could take up with a girl and just expect things to go all right...it's early, but these days jumping into bed after the second date is pretty much an average thing. Don't know how many more excuses I'm gonna be able to make. Eventually sex is gonna come up sooner or later._

He typed back a response to her suggestion that he come over.

"_**Sorry, can't. I got no ride for tonight."**_

With that message sent, he went off to take a shower. The hot water boiled away the tension he'd had all night. The tension hadn't only come from Wanda's staring...but also from Rogue. Not only because of the staring, but because he was growing very aware she might suspect he was seeing someone. He tried to be discrete about his texting but it wasn't easy. It was either ignore Rowan's text (and let her feel ignored) or try to subtly respond when he thought people weren't noticing.

_Gonna have to tell Rogue about Rowan sooner or later. Jesus, what kind of reaction is that gonna cause? She's been doin' so well, other than a few little issues, maybe, she's getting better...I don't want to fuck that up for her._

It seemed almost conceited of him to feel that _his _having a girlfriend might interfere with Rogue's recovery. The problem was, he knew it was true. Handled the wrong way, and this _could _be a major punch in the face of that recovery. He had to be very _very _careful about this.

_So tell her? Don't tell her? Maybe just let her figure it out for herself and ask? I don't know what's best. Either way she's gonna have my happiness thrown in her face when she _can't _be happy. Shame she can't move on herself. Maybe if Kitty isn't gonna take up with Pete maybe I could palm him off on Rogue?_ He wondered.

Remy tried to imagine Rogue and Piotr together as a couple. Would that work? He pushed the thought aside quickly. It left him uncomfortable. He trusted Piotr like a _brother,_ he was his best friend. Despite that trust, Remy just didn't like the thought of those large strong hands anywhere near Rogue. It made his back tense up so much that it took ten minutes under the hot shower before his muscles began to feel vaguely loose again.

_No. Setting him up with Kitty, that's fine. But not Rogue. Rogue ain't ready for that yet,_ Remy told himself sternly. _She might be stronger than Pete, but she's _far _more fragile. Doesn't matter that Pete would treat her right, she's too damaged to be takin' up with any one else right now. She needs to be okay with bein' on her _own _before she can even be with another person,_ Remy decided.

_Besides...she's kind of limited anyway,_ he reminded himself as he returned back to his room, drying his hair off as he walked naked towards the bed. He picked the phone up from the pillow where he'd tossed it; a reply had been received. He selected it and glanced over it.

"_**Maybe I could come see u?"**_Rowan was asking.

Remy winced. There was a problem. He hadn't told her exactly where he lived in Greymalkin and he didn't want her knowing either. This thought hadn't occurred to him really that some day if they were to get more involved she'd _have _to know about where he lived, what he did on the sidelines, about the people he socialised with, that she'd have to be told about the dangerous things he did to help the world.

_Ain't tellin' her that any time soon, too early to be puttin' my cards on the table,_ he decided as he typed back a response. "_**I'm already in bed, it's getting late anyway," **_he responded with his eyes checking the time stamp on the top of his phone. Yes, nine thirty-five was far too late to be venturing out, wasn't it? He laughed inwardly. Once upon a time he'd have left his bed at _any _godforsaken hour for a sniff of sex.

_But that was before I ended up broken thanks to Rogue, _he thought dryly. _Before nine pm was a _respectable _hour,_ he added, slightly amused by how _adult _he'd become. Remy tapped send after a moment of consideration then went back to towel drying his hair. A minute later, his phone buzzed with another message, this time the text more deflating than before.

_"__**What r u wearing 2 bed?"**_was Rowan's question.

_Fuck. Why can't she just leave it at that? Why did she have to ask that kind of question. That isn't a polite question...that's an invitation to fucking sext,_ he despaired.

He wasn't in the mood to text like a sex-starved teenager tonight. It wasn't that he didn't have the imagination; even if he _didn't _have the drive he could have written some of the most inventive and filthiest things imaginable to please her if he'd put his mind to it. But the problem was he didn't want to. He didn't want that for their first _sexual_ encounter, talking dirty over text messages.

_No...this is my first real relationship, so...it should be romantic, not just a casual thing over a text message or two, or talkin' on the phone._

With that, he realised he should _probably _turn his phone off in case she decided to _call_ to ask the question vocally. He didn't have it in him to tell her he wasn't in the mood. That he hadn't been in the mood properly for some time. At least...not with other women.

He switched the phone off frustratedly and stretched out on the bed, grabbing for the remote and switching the television on. He was exhausted but now he _couldn't _sleep. He had too many questions going on in his head.

_How am I gonna tell Rowan about the X-Men?_

_ Do I tell her about the things I've done in the past?_

_ How do I tell her I've never had a proper _serious_ relationship before?_

_ Do I tell her I'm an orphan? That my adopted family are a fucking band of underhanded lying bastard thieves who'd sell their souls for a little bit of money?_

_ How do I tell her I can't even get it up?_

That was the worst part. The worst part was telling her he was sexually broken and might _never _be able to function right.

_Maybe I should think about goin' into therapy...seems to be kind of working for Rogue,_ he thought as he ran his hand through his damp hair. He stared up at the ceiling, dim orange light from the last of the sunset outside cast stripes across painted white plaster where there had once been nothing but rafters and board. He slumped back down against the pillows and felt completely unhappy at the idea of having to go to someone about this. He'd been holding off any plans of seeing a doctor; he couldn't afford to pay for medical care right now and he didn't want to go to Hank or the Professor with his problem _or _to ask for some kind of loan to cover the cost.

He was sure the Professor would be _more _than willing to cover the cost of health care considering what had brought the problem about, but Remy didn't want the Professor knowing all the same. It was embarrassing...and it was bad enough that Piotr knew. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone else knowing; it was too much to stand. He'd rather them assume he was a pervert, getting up to all sorts, a filthy _man-whore. _It was better than the truth.

Sighing, he switched the television off and rolled over, pulled the pillow over his head and tried to drown the thoughts out as he forced himself to go to sleep. He'd focus on it all tomorrow.

* * *

**End of Part Fourteen**

* * *

**Weeeeeeeeee, managed to get another part up for the weekend! Yay. I should be in bed of course, but I had to at least get one more chapter posted before hitting the hay. Thanks for all the birthday wishes. My birthday was on Tuesday, but it's Tomorrow that I'm getting taken out (couldn't have had a birthday at the weekend lol). Thanks for all the reviews and interesting thoughts (funny how someone else picked up on the fact that everyone kind of just let the craft fair story fly, lmao - at least Rogue saw through it, haha). Hope you all have a great weekend and hopefully tomorrow I'll be too drunk to feel my age, lmao. Love you all !**


	15. Part 15

**Slight Return**

**Part Fifteen**

* * *

Remy LeBeau was glad when Friday came and it was finally _pay day._ He felt like he'd been dragging himself through all week on a couple of dollars trying to avoid paying anything and feeling like a cheapskate.

After work on the Friday, he stopped by the retirement home to give a brief visit to Rose.

Old Rose was sitting in her private bedroom today, she'd apparently fallen and hurt her ankle and had been spending all her time sitting in an armchair on her own. When Remy arrived there she sat in her chair, a book about gypsies dangling from her arthritic fingers. The woman looked as if she'd dressed in the dark, her beige cardigan was buttoned up wrong, and one stocking was below her knee. One foot was resting up on a small footstool, her ankle swollen up tremendously and bruised.

"Dillon," she looked up at him with her watery old eyes. "You didn't say you were coming!"

Remy sighed inwardly. So for the moment he was Dillon. He tried to get into the persona, he pushed his sunglasses a little further up his nose. "Grandma, what happened to your ankle?" he asked, feigning innocence as if he _hadn't _just been told by the receptionist out front that she'd tripped on someone's cane in the common room.

"The nurses did it," she snorted, snapping her book shut.

Remy raised an eyebrow. He doubted the nurses had done it, but for now, it seemed Rose believed they did. He sat on the edge of her bed, which was hospital like in fashion, and felt very uncomfortable to sit upon. "How did the nurses do it?" he asked, dangling the bag he'd brought between his hands.

"Always leaving carts in the middle of the hallway...people keep falling about, they want us to. They want us to die so they can get more people in here, you know. If we split our heads open, they get _bonuses_, you know. The more people they knock off, the more money they make."

"I bet," Remy replied. He decided to go along with it, he knew better to argue with a woman who had lost her marbles. She was liable to just get angry with him anyway. "I brought you chocolates," he held up the bag towards her.

She laid the book gently upon her lap and took the bag from him, feebly digging into the bag to pull out the box of chocolate covered rose creams. "My favourite," she gushed, her voice quivering, a trembling smile stretching her thin lined mouth. "You always did remember my favourites."

Remy felt thankful that he'd taken note that she'd been keeping some of her crochet needles in a metal tin stamped with an ancient brand of rose creams. He hadn't been sure if it _would _be her favourite, it might have just simply been the tin she kept her items in, but it had struck him while he'd been buying cigarettes and seen the box behind the counter.

_Guess that was lucky,_ he realised. He felt relieved that fate had worked out that way. He'd been thoughtful, he supposed, but Rose saw it as far more meaningful. To him it had been more coincidental than anything.

"This is the expensive brand, too," Rose admitted, she tried to tear into the plastic wrapping covering the box.

Remy took the box from her to pull the wrapping off, "nothin' is too good for you, grandma," he smirked a little. He took the lid off the box and handed her it.

Rose popped a rose cream into her mouth, and her face was momentarily caught in bliss, her eyes shut lightly and she sighed happily. "Did I ever tell you that my mother used to eat these _all _the time when she was expecting me?"

"Nope," Remy admitted, he looked at her, feeling a strange eagerness for her to enjoy those chocolates. He hoped to god she wasn't diabetic. He supposed he should have checked with Rowan first perhaps.

"That's where I got my name. My father used to say I got my name because a rose bush he'd been growing for years had it's first rose bloom the _very _day I was born. But no, mother had spent nine months eating rose creams and getting fat as a house," she smiled, holding out the box to him.

Remy didn't like these types of perfumed chocolates but he took one to be polite, feeling almost like he was encroaching on a memory of Dillon's, that he was stealing something that didn't belong to him. This was a memory Dillon probably _had _shared with his grandmother once or twice.

He put the chocolate into his mouth and chewed, trying to avoid making any faces that'd give away the fact the rose flavoured filling was absolutely dreadful.

"You look very happy today, Dillon," Rose admitted after a moment, chewing thoughtfully.

"I've had a good week," he confessed, he let his elbows rest on his knees and propped his cheeks on his hand.

"You found yourself a nice girl yet?" asked Rose hopefully.

Remy dropped his eyes a little, wondering why his cheeks felt so suddenly warm, "maybe."

"Tell me," said Rose, she put the box of chocolates on the table next to her chair, and she took her reading glasses off, folding them carefully and resting them by the box.

"She's a nice girl," Remy promised, "very sweet."

He decided to omit that she worked at the retirement home; Rose had a dislike of nurses here and it was likely to cause trouble. He decided to be very careful about what he told the woman.

_Just tell her what she wants to hear,_ Remy warned himself.

Rose looked at him eagerly for more details.

"Pretty smile, good job...funny, and smart...and she's kind."

"Would she make a good wife?" asked Rose hopefully.

"I..." Remy wasn't sure how to answer this. It hadn't occurred to him yet whether Rowan would make a good wife or not. It was _far _too early in the relationship to even be considering such a thing. "It's sort of...early days," he confessed.

"When it's _love,_ you know straight away," Rose explained, "you should be able to answer..."

"It's tough, Grandma," Remy stated coolly, "I hardly know her enough to tell. I don't want to rush things..."

"And are you being _careful_?" Rose asked suspiciouly.

Remy blinked, "Grandma!"he admonished, "I hope you're not tryin' to suggest that I might _possibly_ be doin' _ungentlemanly _things..." he teased.

Rose gave a soft laugh, "I know you young ones. In my day, things were a lot less...sudden. Now I read magazines and see television, all these shows with girls and boys jumping into bed with each other only a day after meeting..." she tutted. "I'm sure you're no saint either."

"I'm no saint," Remy confessed, "but...I'm not takin' any liberties. Takin' this slow, want to see some scenery, hear the birds on the way, you know?" he asked; in the open doorway he saw someone standing lingering; it was Rowan leaning against the door frame with a slight smile playing about her face.

_She's listenin'. If I need to make a point about _not _wantin' to go straight to the sack, this is my opportunity,_ he realised.

He felt his cheeks grow hot again, and he dropped his eyes back to Rose. "I want to go about things the right way; I ain't in no rush. I know some things are worth waitin' for."

Rose smiled, "you're such a good boy, Dillon. Some day you'll be a wonderful husband and father."

Remy felt a strange sadness at these words. He wasn't sure that he ever _would _be, he wasn't sure he planned to live that long. And even if he _did,_ would the future take him to those kinds of places? "I'm just going to go speak to the nurse to make sure they're takin' care of you, okay?" he asked of Rose as he stood up, "I'll be right back."

He left the room and chased after Rowan who had already made it halfway down the long wide hallway.

"Rowan," he called out to her; it caught her by surprise and she almost walked into a cleaning trolley that the careless cleaning staff had left at the side of the hall. Remy wondered if perhaps Rose _wasn't _so crazy as he'd suspected. Perhaps she _had _fallen on one of them?

Rowan caught herself, she gave a nervous laugh, "sorry, I didn't want to interrupt your visit."

"I just...wanted to see if maybe you wanted to go out for dinner tonight?" he asked, "there's this place that does a mean steak. Thought we could go."

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"I'll even pay," he offered jokingly.

"Oh, well that makes _all _the difference," she teased, "okay, what time?"

"Seven?" he offered.

"Pick me up?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"We going anywhere afterwards?"

"I actually gotta work tomorrow," he confessed, "boss's nephew was supposed to be covering Saturday shift but he's got some stupid virus so I'll need to have an early night if I wanna be bright for that."

"So sleep over at my house," she offered softly, she dropped her eyes to the floor, a faint smile played about her pretty pink lips.

His ability to lie worked quickly enough for him to answer without a beat, "I can't, the car I'm borrowing tonight _has _to be back to the girl I'm borrowing it from by _six_."

"What girl?" Rowan blinked.

Remy blinked. Yes, he should have probably avoided talking about other girls. "Just one of my room-mates. I wouldn't care if I got the car back to her late, but her boyfriend Scott...He gets on my fucking back about it if I so much as come in ten minutes later than I said I would be."

_Okay, it's not exactly a lie. Just gotta make sure I borrow Jean's car tonight, get it back tonight, then it's not lyin' that I had to get the car back, that I couldn't come over to stay,_ he thought ahead.

"Remy..." Rowan began, sounding vaguely awkward. "Is there something I should _know?"_

"Huh?" he asked, pretending to play it innocent.

"You're hiding something, aren't you?" she asked, "I mean...are you scared of sleeping over or something?"

"Course not," Remy said truthfully. No, it wasn't the _sleeping over _he was scared of.

"You're not a virgin or anything?" she asked carefully, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed loudly, the thought was so preposterous, although, he did begin to wonder if his impotence practically made him a virgin all over again since it had been so _long _since he'd done anything. "No...no," he managed to pull himself together after a few more minutes of chuckling. "No, I'm not a virgin."

"I'm so glad this amuses you," she gave a slight pout.

"Oh it doesn't, believe me," he assured.

"So...what is it, then?" she gave an awkward sigh, "you're not...uhm...like a pre-op transexual or something...?"

Remy gave another loud belly laugh. That was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard; it was far more absurd than the insinuation he could be a virgin. "Are you...kiddin' me?" he managed between laughs.

"It's not _impossible," _she admitted. "You...could be. Transexuals are very convincing these days you know."

"You're accusin' me of bein'...what...a...transexual man," he managed in between laughs, feeling slightly breathless. It had been a good while since he'd laughed this hard.

"Yes..."

"So you think I was a woman? I _am_ a woman?" he snorted.

"Maybe...every time I try to suggest you come over, you go all quiet..." Rowan tried to explain.

"I'm all man," he assured, "I promise."

Rowan smirked a little, "Really?"

Remy glanced down each end of the hallway to be sure they were alone, and he raised his shirt to show her his torso, "no scars...right?" he gestured to his chest, "and there would be, wouldn't there? Do I look like I'm hidin' anything?"

Her eyes roved his chest appreciatively falling lower to gaze over his washboard abs and the thin trail of hair leading to his belt. "No...you don't," she sighed softly.

He bridged the space between them and took her hand, "and just in case there's _any question,_" he swallowed hard and held her hand against his crotch, "does that feel like balled up socks?"

It was a shame there was nothing happening beneath the belt, but at least there was _something_ tangible there nonetheless.

"No..." she breathed, "it doesn't."

He moved her hand from him quickly from him determined to _not _let her know that nothing _would _happen at her touch. He forced a smirk, "trust me, chere..." he brushed his lips softly against her cheek, "what's there is worth the wait."

Remy left her standing in the hall so he could go return to Rose. As he slowly walked he felt guilty; calling Rowan chere left him feeling strangely sleazy. It had been a name he'd only ever reserved for Rogue, even long _before _they'd been romantically involved. He had the vaguest recollections of adoring her and calling her that, and now calling anyone else chere felt horribly wrong.

_Gonna need to come up with my own pet name for Rowan...can't use chere, it's just...too creepy,_ he decided.

As he returned to Rose's room, he found his pretend-grandmother for the day to be sleeping, snoring away in her chair, her foot still resting up on the footstool. He gave a slight sigh. He supposed older people were prone to sudden bouts of exhaustion...she'd certainly earned her nap time after making it to such an old age after all.

He moved to her dresser to glance through the display of family photographs. There was a large black and white photograph, Rose as a young woman with dark curls and a bright smile in a long lace wedding dress, her husband wearing a uniform that likely showed he had been in the marines at one point of his life. There were other photos, photos of her children when they were younger.

Finally, one photo caught his eye; it was _Dillon._

Dillon Knightly had been lanky...and looked to be much taller than he himself was. Remy felt that he and Dillon shared the same hair colour and almost the same haircut too, but Dillon had thinner eyebrows...eyebrows that were too thin for his face, they looked deliberately plucked and shaped to perfection. His flamboyant outfit spoke volumes, and the fact it _almost _seemed from the photo as if the boy _may _be wearing mascara (although it was hard to tell from a photo this small) suggested to Remy that there had been a _very _good reason Dillon hadn't found a 'nice girl' to settle down with.

_Maybe she didn't know,_ Remy thought dully. _Probably didn't tell her. Things were different in her day, not sure she'd have probably understood. _Remy checked she was asleep and glanced to the small bookcase to where there was a photograph album. He went through the pictures which seemed to all be of Dillon. Dillon was a sickly looking child who grew up fairly good looking but slightly effeminate as a teenager when the eyebrows started getting thinner, the hair started becoming far too perfect. Yes, there was mascara...and by the looks of it foundation too.

Remy glanced at himself in the mirror above the dresser, trying to decide if he and Dillon looked remotely similar other than the hair colour and style. Dillon had green eyes, a slightly off olive colour, strangely pale that reminded him of Rogue in a way.

Momentarily, he mused that if he and Rogue had conceived a child by accident, that child _may _have grown up to look like Dillon Knightly.

Remy wasn't sure why that thought made him sad. _Me as a father? Hah. That's rich,_ he thought snorting at himself. _How the fuck would that have happened anyway?_

For a while Remy flipped through the pages of photographs, a picture by picture telling of Dillon's life...finally it came to an abrupt end just after what looked to be a high school graduation. Rose and Dillon stood together in the picture, his arm around her, Rose's smile bright. They had seemed close somehow.

A strange sadness tugged at Remy, guilt. He'd felt his future was bleak, but he'd almost forgotten how this poor boy had never even _met _his future. It was no wonder Rose tried to grasp at her belief that he himself was her grandson. No one would want to believe that an eighteen year old's life had just been torn away from him like it had been.

He put the album back on the shelf and sighed, he supposed Rose wasn't going to wake up any time soon; she looked peaceful. It was most likely the painkillers she had for that swollen ankle were what had knocked her out so suddenly. He should let her have that rest and leave.

With a soft and despairing sigh, he moved over to her chair, leaned down and kissed her sagging lined cheek, "bye, grandma," he murmured softly, although she couldn't hear him. He said it not for her, but for Dillon, who probably never _did _have the chance to say goodbye that last time. He hoped if there _was_ an afterlife, somewhere Dillon would feel at peace that he'd said it for him, and although he didn't really _believe _in the afterlife, he made a silent promise to Dillon that he'd be there for Rose as much as he could be. That was all he could offer.

* * *

Rogue had barely gotten to the bottom of the foyer stairs as she was clipping the belt to her uniform when her eyes caught Remy slinking in through the hall leading from the kitchen, a bag from a local clothes store dangling from one hand and his jacket hanging from the other.

"Ah've been lookin' for you," she said quickly. She had been; he should have been back a few hours ago but apparently had decided that _clothes shopping _was much more important than being where he was supposed to be.

"What is it?" he sighed.

"Mission," she announced.

"Right _now_?" he groaned.

Rogue frowned, "yes, _now._ We need you...come on..."

"But my uniform-"

"Scott grabbed your spare and took it to the blackbird...come _on,_ we don't have time to stand around."

Remy dropped his bag and followed her to the hidden elevator, he sounded slightly put out which she thought odd as normally he _loved _the prospect of a good fight or a workout. He seemed a little off today, she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Why didn't you have your communicator on?" she asked, "you're supposed to have it on at all _times._"

"I thought I did have it on," he dug into the belt of his jeans for the small communicator and he retrieved it, he tried switching it on but the thing was dead.

"Are you _kiddin'_ me?" Rogue blinked.

"It's out of power..." he shrugged.

"You have to keep it charged...what if-"

"I'm sorry, okay, I got distracted," he responded, "I'll charge it in the jet."

"You have to keep it charged _all the time,_ not just when it suits you. We tried calling your phone...but the answering service kept picking up..."

"Yeah, I was in the mall," he replied. "Always fucks with the signal when you get further in."

Rogue looked away from him, "oh..."

She wished she'd taken her anxiety medication. She _hoped_ Hank had it in the jet for her to take before they took off. This was going to be her first mission since her return. Her first mission since she'd become stronger. She had no idea what was out there, what could happen. Her stomach was tight and her chest was pounding at the thought of it; it had been since the alarm had sounded only ten minutes before.

"Where are we goin'?" Remy asked.

"Ah don't know, they'll brief us in the jet," Rogue responded, she curled and uncurled her fingers anxiously.

"Nervous?" Remy asked, his eyes falling on her hands. God she hated that he was so observant, always noticing things, always seeing all around him.

"Kind of," she breathed, "it's..."

"Your first time since you got back?"

Rogue licked her lips nervously and looked away. She felt like crying suddenly. She'd been fine all day but the sudden rush of getting ready for the mission had her emotions running high enough. Admittedly, trying to find _Remy_ in that time had been more emotionally challenging. It was almost four pm. Where had he been for four hours? Had he been sleeping with whomever this girl – or these _girls – _he was texting with – might be?

"You'll do fine," Remy promised, "You're stronger than _any _of us," he reminded.

"Ain't about that," she closed her eyes and tried to think straight. She wasn't sure she was ready. Why did _they?_ Of course, she'd had the _option_ to back out...but when Remy hadn't shown up, she'd thought the better of it. One less person could be the difference between success and defeat.

But Remy was here now...she could always back out.

_No, Ah ain't gonna back out, Ah ain't gonna be weak anymore. Ah'm sick of bein' the victim, of bein' useless to the team. Ah want to be where Ah was..._

Remy put both his hands on her shoulders and squeezed tightly, "just breathe..."

Listening to him, she took in a deep breath and sighed it out.

"You know exactly what you're doin' out there. I watched you in the Danger Room, you're the most capable of us all...no one gonna hold you back," he shook her reassuringly, then let go of her as the elevator doors slid open.

They rushed to the blackbird, Logan was hanging at the hatch griping for them to hurry.

"Showed up after all, huh?" Logan snorted, "been trying to call you for nearly twenty minutes," he complained.

"Communicator keeps running out of charge," Remy responded.

"Because you ain't chargin' it. Get your head out of your _ass,_ LeBeau. You need to be more responsible if you want to stay on this team."

Remy and Rogue climbed into the blackbird; Remy didn't have the time to change into his uniform, he and Rogue moved into their seats, the aisle between them. Rogue gripped the edge of her seat hard, she was having trouble keeping control of her anxiety now, she felt the steel framework of the seat buckling under her hold.

"Hank?" Remy called up ahead.

Hank, who was at the cockpit, called back, "hmm?"

"Rogue needs a little Dramamine," Remy replied loudly and pointedly, hoping that Hank would get the message.

Hank left Logan to the controls and moved his way quickly down give Rogue the pills, "there's a bottle of water under the seat..."

Rogue took the pills under Hank's supervision; Hank returned to his seat and Logan prepared for takeoff. Rogue let her head rest against the back of chair and tried to relax. Impossible. So much going on, so much could go wrong. She felt so studied, felt Remy's eyes on her; she could almost tell the others were listening to her from their seats, _wondering _if she was ready for this. She wasn't sure she was.

_Ah can't do this...Ah can't. Ah'm not ready. Ah haven't been in the field in so long, Ah'm not sure Ah can cope yet...what if Ah hurt someone accidentally, what if Ah kill someone stead of just restrain them? Jesus...Ah feel sick..._

The takeoff was shaky, but soon the blackbird was in the air, flying smoothly. Her eyes briefly turned to Remy who was in the middle of struggling into his uniform without leaving his seat.

Although she _knew_ it was wrong to look at him half naked there in his seat, she couldn't help herself, it was _better _than focusing on the anxiety. She noted that his tan had deepened and he was far more muscular than she'd ever known him to be. Since he'd finally given up thievery, he'd let himself grow a little meatier. She'd always been aware he'd deliberately kept himself slightly slimmer and wiry to get into smaller spaces, but his shoulders had grown broad, his waist slightly thicker. He was like finely chiselled granite...a renaissance sculptor couldn't have cut a piece of art as fine as Remy LeBeau looked.

After managing to finally get the uniform completely on and zipping it up, Remy yanked his phone out of the pocket of his jeans which had been thrown aside and held it up, trying to get a signal.

"Cloakin' device," Rogue reminded. Yes, the cloaking device would _ensure_ Remy LeBeau wasn't getting through to whatever bimbo he was screwing around with at the moment. That was something to be thankful for.

"Just checkin' the time," Remy lied. Rogue knew better. He'd been checking for messages.

_What kind of messages do they send each other? Dirty ones? If he was ever without that phone Ah'd be able to have a look._

The thought about this took her mind briefly off of her anxiety about the mission. At least until they were only a few minutes away from the destination. Then it began to come back again; the anxiety medication just _wasn't _working quickly enough. She'd have to endure this mission somehow without the benefit of it.

Her hand – which had been sitting against the armrest gripping on tight – suddenly felt Remy's hand gripping her closed fist and she turned to look at him questioningly.

"You're gonna be fine, chere," he assured.

It was the first time she'd heard her call her that in what seemed to be forever, and although it hurt more than words could say, for a moment, it brought back happier memories, memories of even before they had been in love.

She found no response, her lips trembled as she tried but no words would come forth.

"I'll be with you all the way. Just like in the old days right? You and I, we made a good team, ain't no one could kick our asses," Remy reminded, he smirked. She could see it was forced, it was all forced for her benefit, but at least he was making the effort she supposed. At least he was _trying_ to still be friends.

_At this rate, Ah'll take what Ah can get,_ she thought nervously, her eyes falling to their hands, she could feel her hand trembling beneath his. But his was steady and strong. She wished she could feel its warmth and not just the thin lining of her own glove.

Remy squeezed her hand harder, "You'll be fine. You got through worse, remember?"

Rogue gave a slow nod; he was right of course. She _had_ been through worse. This...whatever this was going to be...it couldn't be worse than wanting to kill herself on a daily basis, it couldn't be worse than living like a hermit in the dark beneath covers.

Rogue turned to look ahead, she saw that Piotr was slightly looking around from the seat in front; he was _looking _at Remy. She couldn't understand why although it suddenly struck her that they had not spoken to each other at the dinner table or in the rec room for days other than 'pass the salt' or 'are you finished with that magazine'. It reminded her of the way Kitty and Piotr spoke to each other. Barely acknowledging each other.

_Ah guess Piotr pissed him off too,_ Rogue supposed. Or perhaps the opposite? She wasn't sure why Piotr was looking at Remy in that way, he looked strangely disapproving of something, but of what, Rogue wasn't sure. Remy's hand left her and she wondered if Piotr was getting annoyed at his attempt to console her.

_Maybe it's part of the tough love thing, no one else was tellin' me it'll be okay, maybe Ah was just supposed to deal with it, maybe Ah wasn't supposed to get support, maybe Ah was meant to figure out this on my own and he's interferin',_ she supposed. Her head began to swim a little. Finally, the anxiety medication was slowly kicking in.

As the jet landed in the field near their location, Logan pulled Rogue aside quietly to remind her, "evasive action only, nothin' violent. Let everyone else deal directly with the enemy. _You_ just try to keep everyone else out of harms way..."

"But..." she began. Why had they wanted her here if she wasn't supposed to do much else? Surely her presence was pointless? She'd have been better sticking at home in the war room than tagging along.

"You're under the influence," Logan reminded, "we can't trust _how _you'll function in the field with those meds...so until we can be sure, you have to keep a safe distance. Protect any innocents, _don't _engage."

Rogue nodded. "Ah'll do my best."

"You always do," Logan slapped her back, "Now get out there."

* * *

**End of Part Fifteen**

* * *

**Yikes, sorry it took so long to get this uploaded, have had a lot of stuff going on and been trying to get the time to sit and upload. Hectic stuff. But here we go. Hope to have sixteen up in the next few days. Thanks all for your patience, and for the reviews and messages keeping me motivated! Hope you all liked this chapter and I hope you'll all have a great week. :)**


	16. Part 16

**Slight Return**

**Part Sixteen**

* * *

The battle with the mutant terrorists had gone on for some time; first _finding_ them had been the problem. They had left a lot of spots in the city wrecked in their wake. There had been a lot of them; a very large band of homeless mutants who had finally had enough of humans shunning their kind until they had finally begun robbing places, hurting people they felt had wronged them. A few of the stronger ones had gone into a frenzy, let the power and freedom rule them and had gone on a raging chaos trip destroying everything they could.

It was after eight by the time the Blackbird had finally gotten back to Bayville and had landed back in the Hanger. Remy glanced at his phone the moment he'd found time to check and saw six missed calls and four texts.

All four texts stated _"where are you"._

Remy had decided it wasn't much point in trying to call and explain himself _this _late. There'd be no excuse for it. No. He was going to have to make a _bigger _gesture than that.

He pulled on his leather coat feeling it was going to take too long to change clothes, and drove out to Rowan's apartment building, stopping to get a bunch of flowers on the way. He wasn't sure what to get the girl, but he opted for a dozen red roses not because it was usually the best and most expensive option but simply because it was the lazy decision and he was too tired to try to make decisions.

It was almost nine by the time Remy limped up the stairwell of Rowan's apartment building. His feet were killing him from a lot of footwork and he'd pulled a leg muscle in all the running. He took a deep breath as knocked on the door and waited, bracing himself for the yelling he _knew_ was coming.

For a moment he waited, hearing the footsteps on the other side of the door. The door swung open and Rowan looked at him, displeased and slightly hurt, her makeup dark and beautiful but her clothing decidedly drab; jogging pants and a loose old threadbare t-shirt. He saw the dress she'd _probably _been wearing earlier had been tossed over the back of the couch in the living room behind her.

"Sorry," he said meekly.

"Sorry, is that _all_ you have to say?" she asked, "I waited _two_ hours. I called you, text you, not even so much as a call back or an answer to say you'd be late?" she demanded angrily. She moved aside to let him in.

Remy walked in slowly, wincing in the pain that was getting worse now that he'd slowed down. It always seemed to be that way after a mission, the pain wasn't at it's worst until one slowed to rest. He held up the flowers and forced a weak smile.

Rowan's eyes fell to the flowers, her eyes softened just a little but she didn't take them.

"I had a thing..." he tried to explain, "I couldn't get a signal, I swear..."

"I've heard that one before," Rowan took the flowers from him and marched to the kitchen to find a vase.

"I swear to you..." he sighed, "I came _straight_ from there...I didn't even have time to change clothes..."

"Right..." she muttered, taking a vase from a cabinet beneath the sink and she started filling it with water.

"I'm not lyin'..." he tried. He felt horrible. How was he supposed to explain this? All he'd wanted to do was try to apologise in person before going home and getting sleep before work tomorrow. But the apology wasn't going to work without a good reason.

"Sure you're not," Rowan uttered coldly. "I've heard it all before, Remy. Guys making dates, then showing up two, three hours late with excuses. Then later I find out there's another girl, sometimes children. If it's going to be that way with you, I'd rather you just get it off your chest and _tell_ me if you're seeing someone else or if you have a wife and kids, because I'm _not _going through that again."

"I don't," he promised.

"How do I believe that?" she asked with a sigh,she dropped the bunch of roses in without even tearing off the plastic wrapping or putting in the feed in the sachet attached.

Remy couldn't find any other way to make it clearer to her. Desperate to have her believe him, he moved to her and spun her around, "look..." he said, he tore open his coat to show her his uniform beneath.

Rowan's eyes fell to his uniform, he wasn't sure what to make of it, and the expression said it all. "Costume party...?"

"You watch the news?" he asked, "Mutant terrorists in Detroit."

She tilted her head looking at him curiously.

"I was _there..._I was tryin' to fuckin' stop it all," he explained.

Rowan folded her arms stubbornly, "How am I meant to believe you could be _all _the way in Detroit only two hours ago?"

"I can't _explain_ that," Remy sighed, "but...why would I lie?"

"To cover your ass..." Rowan moved away from him and headed towards the bedroom, her shoulders hunched a little with tension.

Remy followed her, throwing the coat off, the summer heat was hot enough without the coat making it worse. "I'm not lyin'..."

"I don't know what to believe, Remy. Everything you've told me about yourself is so general..." she explained, "I know your name...your age. Where are you from? What about your parents? Where do you live? Why are you _always_ so busy every night?"

These were the things he'd dreaded having to explain to her since the moment he'd realised he'd wanted a relationship with her. "Does it matter who I was?" Remy asked, "or who I _am?"_

_ "_They're the same thing," Rowan responded, she was putting stiletto heels away in a box that had been left out on the king sized bed. "And if you can't let me into _both_ those lives...what's the point in trying to be with you?" she pointed out.

Remy sat down on the edge of her bed, he gripped the soft velvety throw beneath his bare fingers anxiously, "Don't say that," he sighed.

Rowan opened the sliding door of her closet, he watched her putting away the stilettos on a shelf. As she closed the mirrored door, he saw his reflection, he looked slightly sweaty and uncomfortable in his uniform, although he had to admit, he looked _good_ in it.

She said nothing, she was taking the jewellery she was wearing off and putting it in a box on her dressing table.

Awkward silences never where his strong suit. He'd never had to make peace like this with a woman because it had never gotten to the relationship stage. He'd never had to apologise like this before because he rarely ever had anything to apologise for.

"I had no choice, I had to go to help...it's part of what I do..." he admitted after a moment, he looked to the floor. "You asked me who I was...who I am?"

Rowan stopped, he felt her gazing down at him.

"I was a trouble maker...mutant who ran amock. But I was given a second chance, to help others. _That's _who I am now. Who I am is a guy who works a shitty job to pay for things I can _barely _afford to begin with...I'm a guy who's tryin' to lead a fairly _normal _life, which by the way_ for me _is a whole new thing since nothin' about my life since the day I was born has _ever_ been normal..." he raised his eyes to her finally. "I'm a guy who met a girl he _really_ likes..." he pointed out, "who is tryin' to make her understand that...he lives a very unorthodox and complicated life..."

She gave a deep sigh, her warm eyes looking away from him.

"I'm not _askin'_ for forgiveness," he admitted, "I shouldn't need to ask for forgiveness. I had a choice to make it for a _date,_ or to save the lives of a _lot _of civilians. Given the choice again, I'd _still _make it...I did what was right...I know I don't need to be forgiven for doin' the right thing."

Rowan's face was deeply red, yes she was angry, but he could see she was beginning to give in.

"When you go to work and help the people there get well, or live out the last of their days as comfortably as they can...you make a difference. This is my way of makin' a difference."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Rowan finally asked, her eyes falling on him.

Remy took her hand and pulled her towards him, "because...what I do is very hush hush...not many would understand..." he explained simply. "And because I didn't want you to worry..." he guided her to his lap and hugged her to him, "didn't want you knowin' about the kind of things I'd have to face...didn't want you worryin' I might get hurt...that's if you cared enough..."

"You know I care enough..." Rowan sighed as she wrapped her arms around him and held onto him.

"We good?" he asked quietly after a moment, hoping that he'd managed to gain acceptance.

"I guess," she sighed. "But just _promise_ me there's no other girl...that this isn't just some elaborate story to trick me..."

"I swear," he assured, he kissed her jaw, he felt her hands bury in his slightly sweaty hair. "I gotta get home now..."

"So soon?" she asked unhappily.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you just _stay_?"

"Can't go to work dressed like Blade," he reminded with a smirk.

"So pick up your clothes early in the morning..." she unbuckled the collar of his uniform to find the concealed zip and she pulled it down.

_Shit, why did I follow her to the bedroom anyway?_ He wondered, he gripped onto her back as she tilted his head aside to kiss his throat.

"What about my friend's car?" he tried with a sigh.

"Screw the car," Rowan struggled to get the slightly tight leather down his shoulders, "how the hell did you get into this?" she demanded.

"Difficulty," he winced at the roughness of her pushing, "body swells in the heat..."

"You should take it off before you overheat in this weather," she admitted. It was certainly true, he felt like he was going to overheat. But he wasn't particularly in the mood to be naked in her presence. And he couldn't explain his lack of excitement either right now. Too much had already been explained without _that_ getting thrown in the mix.

"Listen...it ain't that I don't want to," he stroked her hair from her face gently, "but I got a really early shift..."

"Call in sick," she suggested, working the shoulders of the uniform down further.

He'd only ever called in sick once when working at the motel, and it had been due to injuries. He wasn't about to start pulling sick days just for the prospect of sex. Especially when the prospect of sex was already slim as it was.

"I really need the overtime..." he feigned a moan as she sucked on his earlobe. He at least _had _to make it convincing that he was having a hard time saying no.

"I'll pay you," she teased.

"Oh thanks," he grunted, "treat me like a _man _whore_," _he pouted.

She massaged his shoulders as she pressed her lips to his; the massage was nice, but it didn't help get anything going an it didn't help with the tension that was building. The tension was only going to go away if he could get out of the apartment with his dignity in tact.

_Why the hell didn't I just send the flowers and a card? _

As she sucked on his tongue, he tried to think clearly of ways he could get out of this. And then something quite miraculous happened.

It wasn't due to something _Rowan_ did, it was that accidentally his thoughts had wandered to the field. The excitement, the adrenaline. The rush of energy as he'd fought to keep things under control out there. At one point, he'd caught a brief glimpse of Rogue catching a collapsing wall before it had crushed two children. How she'd stood there strong and almost confident again, her body in that tight uniform that had hugged every curve. It was _that_ thought that brought the stirring, the same it always _did _when he thought of it too much the way he had been avoiding since she'd returned.

It was like a sudden _ping_ as the excitement shot through him in pleasant little tingles and the excitement began to build. _Oh fuck...am I?...shit I am..._

He was getting _very_ confined in the uniform pants. Any more and it was going to be very uncomfortable and most likely _painful. _These pants didn't accommodate that kind of room for growth. He was caught somewhere between absolute horror and joy.

Rowan worked the uniform further down and he didn't fight her on it; part of him didn't _want to_ fight her right now. Remy tried to keep calm wondering how long he was going to be able to keep the excitement going if she _did _happen to get that far?

_Just don't panic...let her go further...maybe it'll work out. If it doesn't, make up some excuse...blame it on the heat or exhaustion from the fight. Just...try to get through it somehow,_ he begged of himself. _Don't let her see how fucked up you are._

She got the zip down to the crotch after fighting to unclip his belt. The erection sprang out from the slot in his boxers like a jack in the box and she gave a strange amused laugh.

"Don't laugh," he muttered. _Jesus, no, don't laugh, you'll scare it away, then where will we be?_ He thought as he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to him to kiss her deeply. No going back now. Not now that she'd seen it, not now that she _knew_ he was excited.

_Take the opportunity. Find out where this can go...hopefully it'll go all the way to the finish line and then at least Rowan will be happy...you owe it to her for fucking up this date,_ he reminded as he twisted her around and tackled her down to the bed. He had to kick off his boots awkwardly and then force the uniform the rest of the way down his sweaty legs.

The excitement was waning already, he tried to keep himself focused. He had _hoped_ that once he'd removed Rowan's t-shirt that things would start looking up (or at least remain reasonably looking up below the belt), but it didn't matter _how _beautiful and soft her body was, how round her breasts were or how much he was sure he _wanted_ to be with her. It wasn't doing it.

_Oh come on...she's gorgeous...she's going to feel amazing,_ he reminded himself. Concentration was becoming a problem, he'd gotten her pants and panties off in one sweep but he was having a hard time trying to focus on where his hands were _and _trying to keep himself excited. With each passing second he could feel the excitement beginning to go down like a balloon with a slow puncture.

He felt inadequate and clumsy. It wasn't like him and he was very aware of it. He felt like a fumbling teenager at prom. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen...somehow he couldn't even _fake _his way through it; couldn't bring himself to touch her more intimately, couldn't push himself to go any further than this.

_She's gonna know somethin' is wrong real soon,_ he realised in despair.

Rowan playfully threw him over and pinned him by the shoulders, throwing her leg over him to straddle him, large soft breasts hanging near his face but all he could do was turn his face and sigh inwardly as her left breast brushed against his cheek. It _should_ have been wonderful, and exciting. It was everything he normally wanted...everything he'd hope for with every date.

But something was wrong...something that hit him like a ton of bricks without warning. It was the moment he felt her, his bare flesh touched the warm moist flesh between her legs and almost penetrated...almost. Normally that one small gesture would have been enough to cause him to instinctively buck up to take her to his hilt. But that _wasn't_ what happened...instead the gesture left him feeling threatened, and sudden, his body went rigid and cold, his breath caught in his throat. Something was _wrong_, terribly wrong. He let out a cry as his blood ran cold and he threw her off carelessly and sat to the edge of the bed, he couldn't breathe.

"Remy...?" Rowan asked in utter confusion, "Remy...what is it?"

He struggled to tell her what it was, he didn't _know _what it was, all he knew was that his chest was tight, his blood was cold...his face was exploding with strange tiny little sensations, going _numb_ almost.

_Fuck...can't breathe...feel like I'm gonna suffocate..._

He was gasping but it was like the air _refused _to come in to his lungs, as if there were no lungs to take them.

_What's happenin' to me?_ He thought in distress. He tried to cough, thinking perhaps he'd choked on his own breath...it was the breathing began fast and furious, out of nowhere.

Then it hit him...then he realised what was happening. Now he knew _exactly _what this was. He dashed for the nearest window desperate for air, luckily it was already open and he leaned there, holding his hands against the sill trying to breathe in the warm night air and only succeeding in forcing it back out again before he could feel the benefit.

"Here...use this..."

Remy looked at her in dismay as she handed him a paper bag with a pharmacy logo on it. It _couldn't_ be what he thought it was, couldn't be what _she _thought it was. This didn't happen to him ever...he didn't...he couldn't be having...

_I am _not _having a fucking anxiety attack,_ he thought with a swimming head.

"Just breathe into it, come on," she forced him to sit after pulling on a robe that had been hanging on the edge of the headboard.

He had little choice; he realised if he didn't he was likely to pass out and bang his head or make a fool of himself. How much more of a fool could he make of himself?

_Bigger fool than now?_ He somehow managed to think.

"It's okay...just breathe..."

Remy closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing into the bag, in and out, in and out, all the while feeing utterly _humiliated_ by this.

_Christ...is this how Rogue feels?_ He wondered. _Jesus I feel like I'm dying..._

He felt Rowan's hand soft against his back, heard her words of encouragement as his breathing began to return to normal. His hands had already gone quite numb and he'd been struggling to hold onto the bag all the while. Finally, as the tingling began and the sensation began to return he dropped the bag to his bare lap and lowered his head.

Strange emotions welled up that made his head hurt so much, he wasn't sure what that feeling was until he felt his eyes starting to tear up.

_No, no, no, no, no, no!_ He told himself sternly. _You are not going to fucking cry!_

And he didn't. But by God, the pain that holding back those tears left his head feel as if there were a knife cutting right into the centre of his forehead. He held a fist to his head, "I don't feel too well," he managed weakly.

"You never told me you suffer from anxiety..." Rowan admitted after a moment, her voice soft, so gentle and almost professional.

Remy winced, "I don't..."

"Then...?" Rowan began.

Remy interjected before she had the chance to ask further, "I don't know..." he got up shakily, feeling completely depleted.

"You're not on drugs or anything?" she asked carefully, her voice so very delicate.

"No," he retorted, feeling slightly insulted at the insinuaion as he reached for his uniform, hands having a hard time gripping right. He stared down unhappily at his fingers, which felt quite stiff and locked.

"It's the hyperventilation..." she explained, "lack of carbon dioxide in your blood stream...it causes your face...lips...hands and feet to go numb or tingle...that's why you need the paper bag..."

Remy remembered Rogue's hands curling and he paused for a moment to try it to see if it helped get the circulation going again. He sat at the edge of her bed with the uniform on his lap, curling his hands, uncurling them, undecided whether it was helping or not.

"Have you recently quit drinking...or...stopped taking some kind of medication?" Rowan tried.

This was humiliating enough, why was she trying to determine what was wrong with him? Couldn't she leave it alone? "Stop tryin' to diagnose me," he asked of her.

"Just answer," she said.

_She's a nurse, course she's gonna try and goddamn diagnose,_ he thought. _That way she can determine if it's worth continuin' seein' me if I'm gonna be that fucked up in future._

He sniffed and tried to clear his thoughts, his eyes burning with the threat of tears, "I don't drink, I don't take anythin'. I don't even take over the counter shit for pain, okay?" he began struggling to get back into the uniform, he winced at how uncomfortable and cold and incredibly sweaty it felt getting back into it again. "Can we just leave it now?"

"I'm just trying to make sense of this," Rowan said, "people don't just take panic attacks without a _reason_..."

"It wasn't a panic attack," he snapped, "I couldn't catch my breath, that's all."

"Okay..." Rowan blinked in surprise with his attitude, her lips trembling just a little.

Remy tried to pull himself together as he pulled on the suit and zipped it up; it felt even tighter now that his body had swelled much more in the heat. He left the zip halfway up his chest because he felt as if it would suffocate him should he pull it up any further. "I'm sorry..." he managed finally after a moment to try and recompose himself, "It's the heat, that's all..."

Rowan tilted her head and eyed him, he felt her dissecting his behaviour, the look on his face. He could see her disbelief, her reluctance to leave it alone, could see it cross her mind to just refuse to listen and try to push her case.

"I have to get home..."

"Why don't you just stay..." Rowan sighed, "we can talk about it in the morning, when you've cooled down-"

Remy almost snapped loudly again, "there's nothing to-!" he stopped himself, he looked away from her pursed his lips. He waited a moment, calming himself down, "there's nothing to talk about," he tried again, voice softer this time. "I need to get home..."

He didn't kiss her goodbye, nor did he promise to call her. He pulled on his boots as swiftly as he could, grabbed for where he'd left the coat and left the apartment without hesitation. He stood in the hallway of her apartment building for a few moments, feeling like an idiot, feeling confused and lost.

Part of him thought it'd be wise to go back in, apologise and tell her everything. Tell her he wasn't sure what had caused him to start panicking like that. He wasn't sure he'd be able to explain though that something had triggered when their bodies had met in that particular way, that it had felt horribly wrong, that he'd felt oddly attacked and violated.

There was no reason for it, and Rowan wasn't likely to understand.

_Knew it was too soon to push for this, why the fuck didn't I stay away? _He asked himself miserably as he went to the car and sat there for a time trying to make sense of it all. He leaned there against the steering wheel, sighing deeply. The headache began to lift a little, the threat of tears that had come from _nowhere_ was starting to leave.

_If this is how Rogue feels on a daily basis, it's no wonder the girl is so fucked up,_ he realised as he turned the key in the ignition. Feeling heavy hearted, exhausted and utterly depleted, he drove home.

* * *

Rogue couldn't sleep.

She'd been tossing and turning since nine but it just wasn't working. Her mind was too alert. She wasn't sure if it was just that she'd had too much caffeine during the day or if it was that her mind was still too caught up the details of the mission that she'd fretted over.

Everything had gone swimmingly...nothing had gone wrong. Of course, she'd been stuck with simply 'helping' rather than anything else. Logan had been concerned that she may be too medicated to focus properly for a fight, or for anything more dangerous and she supposed in some ways he could have been right. Her medicated state did leave her feeling slightly too relaxed to have the right reflexes for some things.

_Didn't stop me from helpin' people though, _she reminded herself. _Was almost like old times...except Ah was way stronger than Ah've ever been. Jesus, that wall Ah caught could have crushed those kids..._

She'd always hated her new powers to degree because of what had brought them about, but tonight, as she lay there in her bed she realised that perhaps if she hadn't had these powers...those children may have died. Who could have stopped a wall like that coming down? Colossus had been too far away to catch that wall and even if he hadn't been...could he take the weight even in his steel form?

Of course, it occurred to her that had perhaps Scott could have blasted the wall away in the nick of time, or Jean might have been able to cast a telekinetic barrier around those children...but had either of them been nearby enough to do so? Rogue hadn't been able to tell, it had all gone so fast...

_Stop thinkin' about it. It doesn't matter. You saved the kids, you helped...you were out in the field just like old times...it felt fantastic. Ah don't even have to sap other people's powers just to be halfway useful..._

Too much was going on in her head, she couldn't settle enough to sleep (although judging by the silence in the mansion she was the only one suffering insomnia tonight). Even the daze her night-time anti-depressant usually put her in wasn't enough to help her drift into a decent slumber tonight.

She got out of bed and left the bedroom to go get a drink of soda. Soda wasn't the _best _thing to be drinking at this time of the night she supposed, but it was hot and the thought of a cool drink from the fridge was inviting. Maybe once she'd had that it'd help? Maybe the problem wasn't that her mind was too awake thanks to all the thoughts about the mission...perhaps it was just the heat?

Down in the kitchen she found that only generic diet cola was left. It wasn't as sweet or as pleasing to the tongue as the usual stuff she drank but she supposed she'd take what she could get at this stage. At least there _was _something to drink.

She sat at the table after grabbing one of the morning newspapers from the pile of recycling that was usually stacked against the wall until the day it was collected. She sipped delicately at the ice cold soda (wincing at the strange aftertaste the low-cost brands always left in her mouth) and turning the pages looking at what was now yesterday's news.

"Oh..."

Rogue raised her eyes at the sound of Remy's voice from the door; he was standing there with wet hair, donning his striped terrycloth robe, the hairs on his legs plastered wet and shining from a shower.

"Didn't know anyone was in here," he mumbled, he stepped in and went to the fridge; she heard him grunt as he got to the soda shelf.

"All they left is diet generic shit," Rogue said to him.

"Yeah...I see..." he shrugged, "I'm starvin'," he complained.

"Where were you when we ordered in dinner?" she turned to look at his back. He'd gone out the _moment_ they'd got back, just vanished completely like a fart in the wind. No one had heard him even say he was going out or when he'd be back.

"Went out to get cigarettes," he responded simply, he came from the fridge with a bottle of water instead.

"You should have waited," Rogue got up and shooed him from the fridge, she'd had to put his meal away there area, "Ah wasn't sure what you'd have wanted from the menu...everyone decided on Indian, Ah told them to get you Dopiaza..."

Remy examined her curiously, "how you know I eat that?" he asked lazily, his eyes seemed strangely dead tonight, his chest heaved a heavy sigh.

Rogue snorted, "you're kiddin', right?"

"Oh yeah," he shook his head at himself, watching as she removed the food containers from the fridge and began plating it out. "You've absorbed me..."

Rogue paused, that hadn't been what she'd meant. She'd forgotten there were some things he still didn't remember, "oh..."

He leaned against the nearby counter, twisting the cap off his water, "that's not what you meant, is it?"

"No," she answered, "Ah was talkin' about...never mind..." she shook her head.

"Tell me," he said with a sigh, he took a long drink then pushed himself from the counter and went to sit at the table as she put his food in the microwave.

"This one time you and me went to a horror movie convention...just hangin' out...as _friends,_" she shrugged, "we borrowed Pete's van...it broke down outside the convention centre...it rained down like you wouldn't believe...you disappeared for half an hour, came back with Indian food."

Remy stared down at the table and Rogue examined him as he thought about these details. He was trying to remember, but it wasn't coming. Rogue shrugged and turned to watch time whiling way on the microwave clock.

Suddenly, Remy announced, "you nearly died that night..." after a moment.

She slowly turned to look at him and he was looking at her with a strange recognition suddenly. Had he remembered? Or was it just logic that he had put two and two together somehow and managed to get six or eight?

Rogue nodded, "yeah..." she instinctively touched her ribs. Although there were no scars, she sometimes still expected there to be. Sometimes she could vividly remember the pain she'd been in until she'd healed with Logan's powers.

His eyes fell to the table again, and he gave a small sigh, his brows knitting to worry and confusion. He was trying to make sense of the memory. "I've had this dream a couple of times..." he began, "nightmare, really...your blood on my hands...blood on the floor...knowin' you're gonna die...I can't remember the details just...I was scared...we all were."

The microwave beeped halfway through it's cook cycle.

Rogue licked her lips, staring at him and wondering what he saw in his minds eye. "That was the night you gave me that necklace..."

He slowly turned to look at her, his eyes full of perplexity. "This was before we dated?" he asked carefully, as if he didn't want to ask at all.

Rogue gave a slow nod, she turned her gaze towards the microwave again, watching the numbers counting backwards. A minute left.

Thirty seconds went by before Remy spoke again, "I gave you that necklace as a _friend_," he remarked, "so why did you return it?"

She kept her eyes on the clock. Why hadn't she kept the necklace? How _could_ she? Every time she had looked at it she'd remembered his playful teasing as they'd stood near that jewellery counter, how he'd spoken to her with romantic words in jest and how very serious it had suddenly felt.

"Felt wrong," she replied, "keepin' it felt...wrong. If we weren't the way we were...then why have it?"

Remy gave a soft, "oh."

The microwave bleeped three times, his food was ready, she retrieved it and placed it on the table in front of him after grabbing a fork from the drawer beside the sink.

Remy pushed the fork through the rice and curry, his expression dull for a moment, "I...gave you that necklace as a friend...and we're friends...so if you want the necklace back..." he tried.

"Ah don't," she admitted. No, she couldn't stand to have it back now. Not when there'd never be a chance in hell of being with him again. It would hurt too much to look at, it would remind her too much of one of the best days she'd spent with him, it would remind her too much of how she'd almost _died_ because of his secrets too.

"Oh," he said again. He took a bite; it must have been too hot or too spicy because he took a quick drink from his water bottle afterwards.

Why was it just _now _he had showered, she had to wonder, as she examined him more closely while he ate. It was almost ten thirty, they had gotten back a little after eight. It shouldn't have taken him nearly two hours to get cigarettes, get home and get showered, surely?

Suddenly she despaired. He'd been with a woman. It was more than obvious. He'd probably showered more than once to get the smell of cheap perfume and sex off of him. If she smelt his breath would it reek of someone else's body?

It wasn't her place, but she wanted to ask all the same. She didn't like the secrets hanging between them. She understood she had no chance with him and if she understood that, why keep secrets? Then...she opened her mouth and spoke _before_ she had thought about it. Before she had properly considered what may happen.

"Maybe you should give the necklace to your girlfriend."

Remy stopped eating; the fork hung in the air and he was quite still. A guilty look crossed his face and he let out a silent sigh. He put the fork down slowly, but didn't glance in Rogue's direction. "What...makes you think I have a girlfriend?" he asked, he took a sip from his water, his expression mixed.

"Ah know you, Ah guess," Rogue shrugged. She sat down slowly at the table. She didn't want to hear this but she _had _to.

"I see," Remy replied, neither confirming nor denying anything. But the look was there. The look that he didn't want to go into it with her, that he was trying to be careful and considerate of her feelings. Why bother? He'd already broken her heart, could it get any worse?

He wasn't going to offer anything else on the matter. He went back to eating, his expression tight. He didn't want to talk about it and she supposed she couldn't make him. She felt disappointment dragging at her every which way. It wasn't several girls then, it _was_ just one, and one that was special enough to _call_ girlfriend. He'd finally moved on.

_Kitty was right, it was better not knowin',_ Rogue despaired. She sat for a few moments, taking in the moment that finally meant there was _no chance_ things could ever be the same. Now she had two options, she could leave the mansion and find the nearest drug store, rob them of their most potent stuff and take it all until she died, or she could go with the second option and get on with her life.

_Ah didn't spend all these months in therapy and on medication just so Ah could kill myself,_ Rogue reminded herself bitterly. _ Ah didn't waste all this time just to get broken up about a fucking guy..._

Slowly, she stood up, "Ah'm beat, Ah think Ah'm gonna head to bed."

"Night, Rogue," he said quietly, still not looking up. Although he looked to be acting casual, the guilt was still there in his eyes, in the strange way he paused before each bite as if he considered speaking but ate to prevent himself from doing so.

Rogue left the room with her can of soda; the grim reminder this conversation had really taken place. In her room she lay in the dark and pulled the pillow over her head to stifle her sobs; she didn't need to wake Kitty up and let the girl know she had been right. This was something she had to deal with alone.

* * *

**End of Part Sixteen**

* * *

**Week second update of the week! Thanks to all that reviewed so far, glad you enjoyed the interactions between Remy and Rogue (even if it was brief). Hopefully I'll not be flamed for the interactions between Rowan and Remy here, lol.**

**As for the comments made in the previous chapter regarding the transsexual reference, it wasn't meant to be offensive, really, and I wouldn't ever mean it to be that way considering one of my best friends (whom I won't name for privacy reasons) is a transsexual man. He suggested the idea as during his transition when he would find reasons to avoid sleeping over at new girlfriend's homes, a lot of them would ask this directly if he had something to hide, had he once been a woman, etc and that it would be the first thing even HE would have asked Remy had he been a woman and Remy had been avoiding sleeping over/sex. I never mean anything to sound offensive to anyone, I'm just not that kind of person. **


	17. Part 17

**Slight Return**

**Part Seventeen**

* * *

Remy LeBeau felt terrible at work the next day. Whether it was stress about the night before (which he had been struggling to keep his mind off of) or whether it was from eating that particularly spicy lamb Dopiaza the night before, it was uncertain but his stomach had been in agony all morning.

By nine-thirty am he was rushing for the bathroom of the motel room he'd been cleaning, and he'd been stuck there on the toilet for a good forty five minutes of passing what felt like hydrochloric acid.

This wasn't particularly normal for Remy, to be having this kind of stomach upset with such horrible diarrhoea. He'd grown up accustomed to spicy food, and he'd certainly eaten much spicier. The only explanation for it he could find was that it was most likely the lamb had been far past it's expiry. It certainly hadn't been undercooked; curries like that generally cooked for hours to get the complexity of flavours from those kinds of spices.

_Either that, or my body is just completely off,_ he pondered, sitting there on the toilet, sweat dripping down his cheeks, sliding down his brow and stinging his eyes.

He wished that this could have happened _any _other day. He wasn't in any particular hurry to get back to work; and anyway, he'd cleaned most of the rooms already and all that was left to do was the laundry. The real problem was that sitting here left him with very little option but time to sit and think about what had happened last night between himself and Rowan.

The thought he _could _retrieve his phone so he could play a game or distract himself had crossed his mind more than once, but the problem was every time he even thought about getting up his back end seemed to explode with the next horrific and agonizing wave of acid-like shit that was leaving him feeling raw.

_No anal sex for you for a while, _he teased himself, trying to take his mind off of his troubles but it didn't work. He ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair and sighed. He was going to have to do a lot of work to make up properly with Rowan. His attitude had been uncalled for, she'd tried to help him and he'd snubbed her because of his humiliation.

_Wasn't right to do that, I was a fucking jerk last night. I should have just let her try to help instead of being a prick,_ he told himself angrily.

The night had been capped off horribly when Rogue had revealed that she knew about Rowan too. He supposed it would have been impossible to keep it a secret much longer, he made it too obvious, he just didn't have the energy nor the passion to hide things or make up lies in the way he used to. He was slipping.

Fifty minutes in and finally the diarrhoea began to cease. It hurt to walk by then and in very short steps he made it to back the motel room he'd been cleaning and lay on the bed. All that he'd had the chance to put there was the mattress topper, and his hair seemed to cling to the static of it, made it prickle a little.

_Fuck this, I'm goin' home,_ he thought after a few minutes of rest.

He made his way to the office still walking in short careful steps, backside on fire with every tiny movement. He realised he must have looked bad because even his boss, Ron Vesticle, looked somewhat disturbed by his sweaty and pale appearance as he leaned against the reception counter.

"I need to take off early," Remy groaned.

"Jesus, what the fuck happened to you? You don't look so good..."

"I'm fine..." Remy winced at the pain as he shifted his standing position.

"You're not on drugs or anything, are you?" Ron frowned a little, dark eyebrows (which Remy as positive where _dyed_ as they had seemed much more peppered with grey last week) furrowed.

"I ate a bad curry," Remy grimaced, "I've been stuck on the toilet in room ten for the past hour...I need to get home so I can die in my own bed..."

Ron gave a laugh, "that bad, huh?" he went to retrieve Remy's jacket from the side office where it was usually hung.

"Johnny Cash said it best..." Remy took the jacket from his boss and pushed himself away from the counter.

"Burning Ring of Fire?"

"No fuckin' joke Don't think I've ever had a case of ring sting this chronic," Remy muttered, "sorry. I'll try to be in early on Monday to deal with the Laundry."

"What rooms are left?"

Remy took a moment to think about it, "eight and four...the supply cart is still in room ten."

"Guess I'll shut the office for an hour and finish those up then. Did you at _least_ clean up the toilet in room ten?"

"Yeah, I cleaned it, but you might want to light a couple newspapers on fire or somethin' and wave them around in there...nothin' would shift the stench."

"Charmin'," Ron made a face.

"See you on Monday..."

Remy climbed into Scott's red convertible carefully; he'd borrowed it today because Scott and Jean had talked about taking a drive to visit Jean's parents over the weekend because she was going to switch cars with her mother (who disliked her brand new Prius, apparently). They would be taking Jean's car of course, Remy doubted Scott would miss his precious convertible...he just had to make sure he had it _back _before he could notice.

The leather seat was hot against his back and his poor backside. All he wanted to do was go home, but he had to make _one _stop first. He had to see Rowan, to try and apologize _again._ This time, he wasn't going to do it with flowers; besides which, he hadn't brought his wallet this morning, he'd almost slept in for work as he'd had a late night.

He hoped his stomach would remain settled enough to allow him to explain himself to Rowan somehow. It was all just the heat and stress, that was what he had to tell her. As a nurse she may doubt that, but he'd stick to his guns and see how it went.

As he got to the top of the stairs of her apartment building, he found Rowan sweeping the landing; she looked at his sweat soaked hair and clammy face, and her eyes filled with worry.

"Hey..." he tried to sound cheery.

"Remy...what's wrong? You don't look so good..."

"Got somethin' cold to drink?" he asked hopefully, he clung onto the rail for a moment.

Rowan nodded and led the way into the apartment, leaning the sweeping brush against the wall outside the door. He followed her in and she shut the door behind him before going to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water for him, "this do?"

He nodded and accepted the water, easing his way carefully onto a stool. _For the love of god, please don't let the diarrhoea come back,_ he pleaded of his body.

"You look _terrible,"_ Rowan tried.

"Think there's a bit of a bug goin' around..."

It was a stroke of genius really. Yes, _that_ was how he could explain off last night. Try to convince her he'd caught something. He had the symptoms, right? Sweating profusely, clammy skin, pale face, he was trembling a little (only because his ass felt red raw and the pain as near excruciating). She was likely to fall for that...at least he hoped she was.

"Oh?" Rowan came over and put her hand against his forehead, "You are a little hot..."

"It's a stomach flu, I think...had to take off from work..."

"Do you have diarrhoea?" asked Rowan bluntly.

Remy winced, he didn't mind talking about _shit_ with the girl in general, but he did mind when it was his own. There was nothing worse than admitting you shit, except from having to admit you could _shit _through the eye of a needle...and that when you _did _it stank to extremes that would most likely even make _maggots _gag.

"Well?"

"Yeah," he sighed.

"A little? A lot?"

"A lot," he responded, "got stuck on the toilet at work for an hour, finally just had to take off early."

Rowan kicked a footstool in front of her fridge so she could sift through the cupboard above there, she pulled out a box of something and tossed it towards him, "take two of those now, and another one in about two hours."

"What is it?" he looked at the packet, the box was a prescription box with her name on it.

"Diarrhoea relief," she replied, "I had this really bad gastric flu a few months back, they prescribed that, but it went away fairly fast. Those are the leftovers..." she retrieved a sachet of something and she hopped down from the stool, kicked it back under the counter where it had come from, and retrieved a glass and a spoon.

He watched her spill the contents of she sachet – some kind of pale orange powder – into the glass, and she poured some of the water from his bottle in and gave it a good stir.

"What's that?"

"Rehydration therapy."

Remy sipped it and made a face. It tasted like watered down orange juice, only powdery and disgusting.

"Drink it down, it'll help make you feel better..."

"Listen, about last night," he tried, remembering the reason he had come here in the first place.

"Drink," Rowan raised the glass to his mouth. He had no choice but to drink and be nursed, he supposed if he was going to receive care for his condition, it may as well be from a nurse. At least she seemed to know what she was doing.

He drank down the foul tasting liquid and sighed.

"About last night..." he attempted to say again.

"It doesn't matter right now. You're clearly not feeling well," Rowan sighed, "just...go lie down on the couch, okay? You can't go driving all the way back up to Greymalkin in that condition...besides...you don't want to risk any _accidents,_" she pointed out.

He supposed that was true. Better safe than sorry. He hated Scott Summers with a passion sometimes, but he _didn't _hate him enough to want to risk letting himself lose control right in the drivers seat of the guys red convertible. He tried to think if there was anything he was supposed to do today, anywhere he absolutely _needed _to be. Logan was having a martial arts training session at three and he was supposed to be there, but he doubted he'd get reprimanded for not showing up if it was due to ill health.

Shuffling his way uncomfortably to the couch, he sat down; Rowan was busying herself about cleaning up her apartment. She switched the television on but he found it hard to concentrate on the station she'd left it on. Although it felt almost rude to do so even _after _she'd instructed him to lie on the couch, he kicked off his shoes and curled up on the couch, knees pulled up to his stomach, wincing in the pain every movement left him with.

At least with him in this condition he wasn't likely going to be asked for sex, that was one thing he supposed. And at least for now she didn't want any explanation from him about last night either. He raised his head as Rowan's phone – which had been sitting on the coffee table – started beeping and she moved over to examine the message that had just been received before giving a sigh.

"Fuck," Rowan groaned unhappily.

"Hmm?" Remy asked wearily.

"Sharon called in sick at work, I need to go in for a few hours to cover her shift," Rowan sighed, her expression dull as she turned the phone off and pocketed it in her jeans.

"You need me to leave?" he asked, he hoped not. He felt dreadful and his stomach was feeling slightly off again, as if a bubbling was going onside his gut. It was that same feeling he'd had just before the acid-like diarrhoea had hit him. He didn't want to _too _far from the nearest bathroom right now.

"Nah," Rowan swept her curls from her face, "You look a little peaky, just kick it here for a little while. Take another one of those pills I gave you in about an hour and a half," she checked her watch, "And if I'm not back by five, have another one of those rehydration drink," she grabbed her backpack from the hook on the wall by the door, "I'll see you when I get back."

_She's too trustin'. For all she knows I could rob her blind while she's out. Not that I think she has all that much to take._

Rowan moved over to kiss his clammy forehead before she left him in the apartment alone; he heard the door locking from the other side. He wondered if he was being locked in deliberately so he _couldn't_ leave. That wasn't a good idea, what if there was a fire?

He got up slowly, wincing with every step and moved to the door, trying the handle. Yes, it was locked. He was almost worried for a few minutes that his new girlfriend might be an absolute psycho until he realised there was a spare set of house keys in the bowl on the table not far from the door. He was able to unlock the door no problem with them if he needed.

_Jesus, don't be paranoid...she's not a psycho, she's a normal person._

Suddenly the warning that brutal wave number two was about to hit him; he staggered, nearly tripping on his own feet and somehow walking with his backside clenched as tightly as possible to get to the bathroom before horror struck.

Behind the door in Rowan's bathroom (which he locked regardless of him being alone in the apartment or not) he sighed and settled on the porcelain throne. Life had gotten horribly average and _horribly_ humiliating as of late. At least Rowan wasn't here to witness any more humiliation for the time being. That was _something_ to be thankful for wasn't it?

* * *

Rogue couldn't eat lunch. She normally loved the chicken teriyaki sub at the sandwich place she and Logan had ended up at but she hadn't even managed to get through more than three bites.

It had been Logan's idea to go out for lunch; he wasn't the kind of guy who liked little trips out to lunch so Rogue had a feeling there was a motive in this. Perhaps it was just what he'd said it was: that she needed to get out of the mansion for a little bit, she'd been stuck in for weeks now and hadn't left the grounds other than their mission yesterday.

But the part of her that knew him well felt there was an ulterior motive to this.

"Eat," said Logan, he was chewing on a ham sub that was about as thick as his arm. He took big manly bites, chewing with his mouth open a little, there was very little decorum when it came to Logan's eating. She supposed there didn't need to be, this wasn't fine dining, it was lunch.

Rogue tried to fake hunger and she took a small bite; it might have tasted fine but she was just not in the mood to eat; it was too hot outside at this bistro table that lacked a parasol to protect them from the full brunt of the sun. All she felt was thirsty, but then that was more the medication which at times gave her incredible cotton mouth than the summer heat.

She'd been feeling miserable about Remy's girlfriend and his moving on all morning...she'd had to feign being upbeat and happy to fool everyone, all the while feeing completely heartbroken and lost. And then at eleven am, the medication had _finally _kicked in properly, and now all she felt was that strange comfortable numbness that left her lost in a mix of haze with only the vaguest awareness of what was going around her unless she concentrated hard.

"Is the sandwich all right?" Logan asked.

"Yeah, it's fine," she wiped the corner of her mouth on a napkin.

"I thought it was your favourite," he glanced at the menu card on the table absently.

"It is," she replied, "Ah'm just not hungry...it's far too hot," she sighed, she downed the last of her orange soda, "can Ah have more soda?"

"You can have whatever you like," Logan loudly whistled for the attention of a young teenaged waitress who already seemed to be run off her feet, "Another large orange soda when you can. Plenty of ice."

The waitress humphed; Rogue was sure she saw the girl roll her eyes before she disappeared off.

"There goes her good tip," Logan made a face.

Rogue chewed on her bottom lip, it was a little dry and a piece of loose skin was bothering her, she had been trying to bite it off all morning.

"Stop doin' that," Logan warned her, "You'll end up makin' it bleed."

"So?" she asked, "it'll heal."

"Not the point," he took another bite of his sandwich, "So...I figured we'd go to the mall, get you a few new things to wear...those clothes you've been wearing lately are looking a little old and faded. It's been ages since you got new clothes."

"Ah don't need clothes," Rogue mumbled. There was nothing wrong with her clothes other than a few little loose threads and the colour being a little less vibrant. What was the point of having new clothes? What was the point of trying to look nice and put on makeup and wear nice things when the only boy she wanted to _notice_ had his eyes on some other girl?

"You used to like clothes shopping..."

Rogue shrugged, "ain't much out there that suits me these days."

Logan gave her a disapproving look at this idea. She had the feeling he was trying to read her, that he had sensed something was wrong today, that he was trying to prevent it from escalating further.

Rogue forced herself to perk up a little, "so...if Ah need new outfits, does that mean that Ah might need stuff to wear _out?" _she asked, pretending to be _hopeful_.

"Hmm?"

"Ah mean..." Rogue straightened up a little, "Am Ah gonna be allowed to go out again _without _supervision...?"

"Rogue, you can leave at any time if you want to go out, no one is stopping you," Logan pointed out.

"So if Ah said Ah wanted to just, ditch lunch right now, go for a walk around town on my own?"

"Not today," Logan said.

"Why not?" Rogue raised an eyebrow. "You just _said _no one was stopping me, now you're tellin' me no."

"Look, I thought we could spend a few hours together outside of the mansion, that it might be _nice_...that we could _talk."_

_ "_Talk about what?" Rogue asked, she picked a piece of the chicken out of the sandwich and she chewed on it.

"How you think things are going at home...therapy...anything you want."

"Anything?" Rogue asked, she sucked the sauce from the chicken from her fingers.

"Anything," Logan nodded.

Rogue sniffed a little. She fell silent, took two bites of her sandwich, waited, not sure how to broach what she _wanted _to say. Every which way she tried to think of the best way to ask seemed to come to the same conclusion. Finally, she asked, "did you know that Remy has a girlfriend?"

Logan's face darkened immediately. He seemed to be struggling to think of a way to answer diplomatically.

The waitress arrived with the large orange soda and without a word left to go clean a nearby table. Logan still hadn't answered the question yet.

Taking a hold of the straw, Rogue sipped the drink, "Well?"

After another moment, Logan cleared his throat and said, "well what?"

"Did you _know_?"

"Why would I know?"

"You have super human hearin', you know the ins and outs of a cats ass, you know all that goes on at home, you must have _heard_ something...seen something..."

"Even if I had," Logan began, his tone careful, "It ain't my place to divulge anythin'. Besides, it won't help your recovery."

"Why not?" Rogue shrugged.

"Look, I know you're still crazy about the guy, but you gotta try to move on."

"Ah _am _tryin' to move on," Rogue replied, "look, he told me, all right?"

"He told you?"

"Not in so many words," Rogue sipped the soda, and then said, "Ah brought it up, he didn't deny it."

"I see."

"Yeah, that's _exactly_ what he said. Ah told him Ah knew he had a girlfriend, he said _I see._"

Logan snorted, "how is knowin' any of this going to help you move on?"

"Because Ah guess if Ah get some kind of confirmation Ah at least feel like it _is _really over..."

"You know it's over, Rogue. He told you that."

"Ah can't help but wonder about the girl...wonder if..." Rogue trailed off. _Wonder if she's anythin' like me...or like Wanda? _

_ "_Stop wondering. You got your own life to live, maybe you should move on too, Rogue."

"How? By finding someone as well?" Rogue scoffed, "You know that can't happen?"

"You said that once before, and then you and gumbo had that thing."

Rogue glanced down to the table, "Ah don't think Ah could let myself go there again..." she confessed. "Ah don't think Ah even _should."_

"I'm not sayin' you should. All I'm sayin' is that you should maybe go out and try to have a life, try to have fun, remember what livin' is for. No one is sayin' you have to date or look for anything...just...go out and have fun with your friends and try to _forget. _Believe it or not, it's possible to have a pretty good life _without romance._"

Rogue looked at him seriously, "How long has it been for you?" she asked quietly.

"Huh?" he asked. "For me?"

"Since _you..._you know..."

"Are you _asking me _the last time I had s-" Logan seemed suddenly quite flustered. He looked as if he were fighting outrage at that kind of a question.

"No, Ah mean...you know, a _relationship..."_ her face grew a little hot. Judging by his reaction though _now _she had to wonder just how long it _had _been.

"Oh," Logan looked away, his expression darkened a little again. He disliked talking about personal issues, especially when they were his own. "I don't know. Very long time."

"You go out, though," Rogue reminded. Yes, he definitely did go out and she suspected once in a while he probably did pick up a woman.

"Sure," Logan shrugged casually, "I go looking for a good time, a little enjoyment. Not _always_ what you think. I go to poker games, I go to bars, I play pool...it's not _always _like I go out on the prowl."

Rogue sighed, "So...what you're sayin' is...?"

"That you just need to get out, have some fun."

"But it's so...tricky," she sighed, "Ah'm so-" she began, she swallowed hard. "Dangerous...Ah could accidentally kill someone with a single bump...or break someone's arm or back with a single little gesture. Ah can't just get back out there without workin' on it more...Ah have to be careful..."

"You're not as _dangerous_ or as _careless_ as you think. You know how to be cautious; just remember how to keep your distance and how to be aware of your strength, you'll be fine."

She put an elbow on the table and propped her cheek up on her bare hand with a sigh. "Ah wouldn't know where to _begin_ in havin' fun again."

"Go to the movies," Logan suggested, "go bowling – christ, actually _don't_ go bowling, you'd be pretty unbeatable with that arm..." he smirked. "But just do somethin'...somethin' that gets you out and back into the land of the living."

Rogue shrugged, "Maybe Ah will."

_Maybe he's right. Maybe it'll help. Maybe Ah need to do what Remy is doin' and go out, get a job or somethin'...get a life of my own that doesn't involve the others...somethin' Ah can just call mine. Ah can't have romance, clearly, but Ah mean...Ah can have friends and fun._

The thought of even trying to have fun felt pretty pointless of course, but it didn't mean it wasn't worth trying and seeing if it'd work. It was only a matter of time before her therapists started suggesting it too anyway now that she was home again.

Rogue took a bite of the sandwich, she chewed carefully, thinking about it. Yes. For a good while everyone had said she should take a leaf out of Remy's book, do as he did. It was time to try. There wasn't much to lose. If it went wrong, she could always retreat back to her room, hope her dosage would be increased and hopefully heal in time.

After she and Logan had finished lunch, they went to the mall and shopped, much to Rogue's displeasure. Shopping with Logan felt like shopping with a _grandfather_ who didn't quite understand fashion or what would look good. Logan's suggestions were plain, old fashioned, and hideous. The kind of things that _Jean_ would wear. She hated every moment of being there with him, looking at that awkward expression on his face as he _tried _to play role of what he thought a _father _might do. She wished he wouldn't try, it didn't suit him when he tried too hard.

To appease him (and feeling guilty since he stood out in these stores like a sore thumb and was met with _many _critical glances of women shopping that he _might _be some kind of dirty old man lurking around), she finally picked up a red tartan skirt and a fishnet shirt, new boots and tights. He wanted to treat her to new clothes as if he thought it would _actually_ make her feel better. He had tried to suggest a haircut but she was still too anxious about letting someone cut her hair...what if they accidentally grazed her skin with theirs?

By the time they arrived back at the mansion it was half past two and Logan told Rogue to go get ready for the martial arts session he was holding in the gardens. Rogue wasn't in the mood to do anything else in this intense heat but she knew better than to argue. If she argued, he'd know she was _really _depressed about Remy, more than she'd let on, and she didn't want to give cause for concern.

_Ah don't want to be observed and watched again,_ she decided as she made her way into the mansion holding her bags with the new clothes and boots.

Just as she was going up the stairs, Piotr was coming down the stairs dressed in his workout clothes.

"Hello," he said brightly, his eyes sparkling. "Did you have a good day out with Wolverine?" he asked.

Rogue wasn't sure if she had or not; she'd spent the whole time thinking of Remy and his new girlfriend and how they were probably getting up to all sorts while _she _was shopping for clothes.

"It was okay," she shrugged.

"Are you going to the martial arts session?" asked Piotr, rubbing his hands eagerly. He liked these sessions although he was horrible at them. He was so large and bulky that he lacked the kind of grace it sometimes took to get the moves right (something that frustrated Logan at times as he tried to teach). But still, regardless of his failures, Piotr continued to attend and enjoy them; she wished she had _half _of that enthusiasm for anything in her life.

"Yeah...Ah could do with the work out Ah guess," she forced a little smirk, "Ah was a little rusty out in the field yesterday."

"You jest," said Piotr, "you were incredible; I would have not have known you had been on leave for so long had I been looking from the outside."

"Thanks," Rogue decided to take the compliment, although she wasn't sure she deserved it. Piotr went down a few more steps, she went up three more, then she stopped in her tracks and sighed for a moment before turning and watching him; he'd nearly gotten to the bottom before she called for him.

"Pete?"

Piotr stopped and turned, looking up the stairs at her questioningly, "yes?"

"You doin' anything tonight?"

He leaned against the banister, "No."

She sucked in a deep breath, "wanna see a movie tonight?" she asked.

"I...er..." he rubbed the back of his neck a little anxiously, he wasn't sure how to take the question. She saw him trying to quickly process it, wondering if she was asking him out on a date or not. She _wasn't._ She just didn't want to go out on her own yet. If something should go wrong, she needed someone there, someone who could be responsible, but someone who wasn't going to watch her like the others would. Piotr was a perfect choice. He was easy going, he was bright, cheerful, energetic, and he _didn't _look at her that suspicious or pitying way the others sometimes did. "I..." he trailed off, he frowned just a little.

"Just as friends...nothin' more...no expectations or anythin'," she spoke up to confirm what he was wondering. "It's just...Ah ain't been out in so long...Ah know you don't go out much either these days."

Piotr dropped his eyes to the stair carpet, "I don't," he admitted, looking slightly flustered.

"If you don't want to, it's fine, Ah just thought Ah'd ask. It might be nice to get out for a little bit away from everythin'...just as normal people, doin' _normal_ stuff."

He considered for a moment whether it would be a good idea or not, he rubbed the back of his neck still, "You're right. It would be nice. Yes, I would like to go out."

"Ah'll take a look at the movie listings after the session and I'll let you know what's in...Ah don't know about you but Ah think Ah wanna see somethin' funny..."

_Yeah, see a comedy. There's enough tragedy in real life to watch drama in the movie theatre._

"Yes...a funny film would be fine. See you at the session."

Rogue felt slightly relieved he'd said yes. She headed quickly to her room and dumped the bags with her new items in them in the corner. Kitty was already in there getting dressed into her own work out clothes, a pair of yoga pants and a pink tanktop.

_Pink...everythin' has to be pink...it's so...girly,_ Rogue made a face.

"Where have you been all day?" Kitty asked casually as she was putting on her sandals. The training session was usually done bare foot but no one liked walking barefoot over that gravel path to get to the space in the gardens where the sessions were generally held.

"Logan wanted to go for lunch and to the mall to force me to buy clothes."

"Oh," Kitty said, "did you hear that Retro Buzz are playing in Bayville Park tonight?"

Rogue made a face. Retro Buzz were the lamest band she'd ever heard; a local band who sounded like a very outdated version of the Backstreet Boys.

"Some of us are going if you want to tag along," Kitty took a hold of her ponytail and twisted the end into a messy bun, pinning it back with a few bobby pins that had been on the nearby dresser.

"Actually Ah can't. Me and Piotr are gonna go see a movie."

Rogue caught the dark look on Kitty's face; it changed from light to almost black nearly immediately and it might have amused her if she wasn't feeling so admittedly dark herself today.

"You...are?" Kitty feigned disinterest as she always did when Piotr's name was mentioned.

"Yeah."

"Just the two of you?" Kitty asked carefully, she looked away, still pretending to not care.

Rogue shrugged, "sure."

Kitty sniffed a little, "what you going to see?"

"Don't know yet. A comedy maybe."

It was very easy to read Kitty's face. She was slightly hurt and annoyed about this as far as Rogue could tell but in her opinion, she didn't have much right to feel either when she'd have nothing to do with the boy as it was. Since that _one _date they had shared they had been avoiding each other like the plague. Other than interaction during training, it was if they didn't exist to each other.

Except that Rogue was very aware that Kitty most _definitely _felt attracted to the boy...and she was certain that Piotr felt the same (if those portraits he'd drawn just by memory alone had been anything to go by). Why they couldn't make the connection, she wasn't certain.

_Maybe Ah can get it out of Piotr tonight after the movie,_ Rogue thought. The thought she might be able to distract herself by delving into someone else's problems momentarily cheered her up as she began changing her clothes. What there was to get out of Piotr, Rogue wasn't certain, but it had to be more interesting than the story Kitty had given her that there had been a movie and dinner at a steakhouse which had made her feel incredibly sick.

That didn't qualify as a date _bad enough _to avoid the other person for the rest of eternity. There was more to this story, there had to be for Kitty to get so defensive and for normally friendly Piotr to pretend the girl didn't exist when they were around each other.

It surprised her that Remy hadn't taken more interest in the situation; it'd been his pushing that had caused the situation in the first place. Normally he was good at unfolding secrets and learning the truth but even he hadn't managed to get it out of Piotr in the months the Russian had lived here.

_Maybe Remy has lost his touch,_ Rogue supposed. _Or maybe Ah just stole it from him...either way, if Remy doesn't care enough to find out and Kitty doesn't care enough to tell me...Ah'll have to find out for myself._

* * *

**End of Part Seventeen**

* * *

**Yay, another update, look at me, I'm on fire (perhaps not as much as Remy's ring is though). Trying to get as many as I can out while I have the time (although the pain sitting at the laptop puts me in might hinder things a bit!). Thanks to all for the awesome and insightful reviews. Some very interesting thoughts (I'm not going to point out which ones are right on the money or not, it'd spoil future chapters!). Ekster, don't worry about long essays (or anyone else who generally feels guilty for writing more than a few sentences and starts rambling). As usual, a lot of it was very perceptive (I swear sometimes it's like some of you guys are in my head!). It's always appreciated, and I always love reading them all.**

**Anyway I'm off to work on the chapter I'm on (35 I think it is at the moment). Hopefully be uploading some more soon. Love you all, thanks again so much, and hope the rest of the week is awesome for you all!**


	18. Part 18

**Slight Return**

**Part Eighteen**

* * *

**Author's note: expect some sexual scenes and don't hate/flame me. I'm not in control of what my mind tells me to write :( **

* * *

By the time Rowan had come home from her extra shift at the retirement home it was five-thirty and Remy LeBeau's stomach issues had finally begun to let up somewhat. He still felt terrible of course, his gut still felt unsettled and his backside was raw, so painful he was sure it was probably hanging in tatters by now. But at least the Godawful diarrhoea had ceased.

He wasn't sure if it was due to the pills and the drinks Rowan had given him, or if it was just whatever illness the food he'd had had run it's course. Either way, he'd been fine for the past two hours.

_Need to remember to ask where the fuck that food from last night was ordered from...and then make a note to tell them to _never _order me that shit again,_ he thought, walking in very short pained steps from the stove to the opposite counter just as Rowan was coming through the door looking worn and sweaty from the uncomfortable summer heat.

"You're still here," she said, almost with surprise.

Remy, who had been in the middle of putting together a very simple salad with the contents of what he'd found in her fridge, stopped and gazed at her. "You asked me to," he reminded. "Besides, wasn't in much condition to go very far," he added regretfully, he had a half cut lime in his hand and he was squeezing in the juice to the large salad bowl. He hoped this would work, seasoning, lime juice and olive oil seemed acceptable enough.

"How's your stomach?"

"Slightly better," he confessed, "those pills seem to be workin'."

"Yeah, they're great when you get caught like that," Rowan slipped her backpack from her shoulder and hung it up on the wall hook not far from the door, "What are you making?"

"Salad," he answered, glancing down in to the bowl, "Or tryin' to anyway. Just with what I found...tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, cucumber..." he reeled off. He turned back to go to the stove where he was grilling the chicken with some spices he'd found on the rack.

"I had plans for that cucumber," Rowan gave a sigh.

Remy turned and raised an eyebrow at her, "please tell me that it wasn't for what I think it was," he retorted.

Rowan laughed a little, "It was to make a home remedy face mask thing," she tossed her keys into the bowl on the table nearby, "why...what did _you _think I meant?"

"You probably don't want to know, but it's something you'd have probably seen in bad nineties porn," Remy turned the chicken over quickly, pushing it down into the grill pan with the flat of the fork to char it a little better.

"What would _you _know about nineties porn?" she asked playfully.

"I grew up on nineties porn. I learned to count titties before I could ever count _fingers and toes,"_ he teased. Although his interest in sex was pretty much gone by this stage, pretending it wasn't helped make him feel almost _normal_ again. Only for a glimmer of a second, he felt like his old self. He wished that feeling had lingered a little longer.

"I see," Rowan moved over to examine the salad, "well, it looks good..." she confessed, she picked a slice of red pepper from the bowl and put it to her lips. "You're quite domesticated, aren't you?"

"Not really. I'm just playin' it by ear," he accepted a kiss on his cheek and turned to watch her wander off to her bedroom.

"I'm gonna take a shower before we eat, if that's okay. It was boiling at work, doesn't matter how hot it gets in that place, the residents still need the heating to be on. It could be a hundred and fifty degrees, they'd be sitting griping for sweaters and asking for blankets," she sighed.

"Yeah, go shower. This should be ready in about ten minutes."

Remy finished cooking up the chicken and he set the plates out. Rowan had a couple of bottles of a local Bayville cider in her fridge and although he wasn't much of a drinker of cider (finding it always quite bitter in his opinion) it seemed like a good option to go with dinner.

It was almost _fifteen _minutes later before Rowan returned from the bedroom, her red hair wet and in ringlets, dangling past her shoulders, soaking into the satin of her deep blue robe, the gold embroidery sparkled in the summer evening sunlight filtering through the blinds at the nearby large windows.

"You're late," he tutted, serving a chicken breast onto a plate for her.

"It's not like in this heat the dinner would go _cold,_" Rowan smirked a little as she sat at a stool and accepted the plate, "so what's on the chicken? It smells good..."

"Mix of what was on the rack. Salt, pepper, little chilli powder and paprika...not too much. Wasn't sure how spicy you like your food. Besides, after my stomach bein' so...you know..." he groaned a little, "it's probably best I keep away anythin' too spicy just in case it aggravates it."

"Good call," Rowan accepted the bottle of cider from him after he popped the cap off, "You probably caught that stomach bug from work, cleanin' up all the stuff you do...it's bound to happen occasionally."

"Probably," he shrugged. He wished he could come clean, tell her that it had been a bad curry, but that would mean explaining the anxiety attack had been something else entirely not related to illness. He wasn't sure he could exactly explain _what _had set that off. It was easier to just lie and not hurt the girl's feelings.

_Things are just startin' to feel comfortable again, don't make it worse,_ he told himself as he took a seat after opening his own cider and plating his chicken out. He served her salad from the bowl before serving his own.

"Bon appetit," he grinned, having to force it, because his stomach still hurt and he felt nowhere near as cheerful as he was pretending to feel. Still, if it was going to make the relationship easier, he was willing to go that mile or two extra

They ate, discussing how good the food tasted (considering it had all been mainly simple ingredients) and how nice the cider was (surprisingly a very crisp sweet cider from a brewery only two miles outside of the town). She told him about how rough her shift had been, how one of the residents at the home had fallen and broken a hip and while she was trying to fall for an ambulance Mr. Dixon (the naked dancing charmer that he was) had tried to fight the phone from her because he'd been sure she was trying to have him institutionalised.

_I could never work at a place like that,_ he thought as he listened.

After they finished eating, Rowan insisted on doing dishes. He was still uncomfortable from all his time spent on the porcelain throne and so he agreed to let her. He watched her, rolling head sideways uncomfortably as she stood at the sink scrubbing the grill pan.

_You know, you _could _just make a little sacrifice for the girl,_ he told himself, watching her as he absently ran his finger along the counter top. _She's been kind to you, all you've done is be awkward, show up late to a date, and turn up on her doorstep ill..._

He winced. He was _still _feeling ill of course, he wasn't capable of much _sacrifice._ But he was capable of something.

When she had finished cleaning the pan, she dried off her hand, tossed the dish towel aside, and left the dishes to dry on the rack by the sink. She moved away, rubbing the back of her neck with a tired sigh.

"Sore neck?"

"Yeah. It's normal. Nurses usually end up with bad necks and bad backs," she shrugged.

Remy stood up slowly from the stool he'd been sat upon for the past half hour, and he reached for her hand, "come on," he said softly.

Rowan took his hand, a curious look in her eyes; she let him lead her to the bedroom where he gently pulled the edges of her blue satin robe down her smooth freckled shoulders until it fell to the floor in a soft wrinkled mess around her perfect white feet.

He'd already seen her naked (and far too many _other _women to count) so there wasn't much to feel surprised or awkward about anymore when it came to nudity. There was still just a hint of disappointment biting at him though that he couldn't get remotely aroused by the sight of her. She had a beautiful body yet she wasn't _thin_ like the girls he usually dated; her hips were a little wider, her belly was a little rounder, and her thighs were soft and large, her backside round and heavy. Her breasts were large and sagged a little due to the weight, but it was attractive and feminine.

After having seen the horror of _Rogue _looking practically anorexic and being utterly devastated and damn-near _pained _by it, he could only appreciate a woman with curves more now than he ever had before. He'd always liked curves on a woman, but Rowan's curves were incredible and he found it comforting to look at her reflection in the mirror on the closet door. As comforting as it was though, at the same time it was completely disheartening.

_This ain't right, I should be hurtin' bad right now for her...I should be howlin' like a dog in heat,_ he despaired. He rubbed her shoulders, staring at her reflection. He and Rowan looked good together in the mirror; he brushed his lips against her ear, watching himself all the while hoping that maybe _watching _would help entice his lust to come out of hiding. All that popped up was his realisation that as a _pair_ they made quite a decent match.

He decided it wasn't the kind of match he'd have made a year ago; he'd have gone for someone completely different long ago, someone not so kind, someone not so...permanent. Or perhaps someone not so predictable...someone who he hadn't decided to _logically _match himself to. He'd have gone with someone unpredictable, a wild card, someone a little dangerous and exciting and completely _not _right.

_Or...someone that makes no sense at all...like Rogue, maybe?_ He wondered as he massaged at Rowan's neck with his thumbs, he heard Rowan sigh appreciatively.

He could look in the mirror at himself and Rowan as a couple in the mirror and see it in the realm of possibilities, feeling it fit. But when he tried to imagine it was _Rogue _there, the idea seemed odd, unfathomable. He supposed if he didn't feel so lousy internally he might have had a little stirring at the thought of Rogue at that moment. Nothing was happening though and at this moment he was oddly thankful for that.

He made Rowan lay upon the bed and he massaged her back and shoulders all the while ignoring the lingering rumbles of his stomach upset and the stinging at his back passage. It should have been quite romantic and exciting but he felt nothing but the strange monotony of it as he rubbed and massaged.

In the name of experimentation, he decided to take things further with the girl, simply because he was curious to see if he _still_ had the knack for this kind of intimacy or if he'd lost _everything_ to Rogue's absorption. His lips travelled up and down Rowan's beautiful freckled skin, the clean fresh fragrance of her shower gel filled his senses and he used his tongue against every part of her flesh to taste the bitter lingering soapiness of it.

He used his hands and tongue in ways (and places) he hadn't thought of for some time. There were things that he _thought _he'd forgotten how to do which came suddenly flooding back as he got into the swing of things.

Rowan was easy to satisfy. She was predictable, all the usual tactics worked, no secrets, no surprises. It didn't take much to get her moaning, which he almost found disappointing - there was very little challenge in this. It was because of that predictability he paced everything and drew it out longer; he knew _exactly _how long it would take to get her to climax, he knew the signs to look for and just as she was starting to give the indication she was almost there he would stop and move his mouth to her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, let the excitement simmer down again before he'd begin again with the next torturous tease.

It was almost an _hour_ before he finally gave in and let her get off, which impressed him that after so long he still had the patience for it. If his jaw hadn't been hurting so much by now, and his back hurting from the positions he was putting himself in, he wondered if he'd have put even more time into it. She was trembling violently, gripping handfuls of his hair and moaning out wildly. Her grip on his hair was so hard it almost hurt, he was sure he lost a few strands to her orgasm, but he supposed that could only be taken as a compliment. He moved up beside her on the bed and lay next to her, breathing heavy from all his effort, his jaw aching and his head feeling slightly giddy as it always did when he used his tongue in those ways.

Rowan moved to kiss his jaw and she reached for his belt; he caught her hand quickly, giving a little groan in reluctance.

"I still don't feel too well..." he admitted honestly.

"Still?" Rowan blinked at him, her breathing heavy, "could have...fooled me..."

"It comes and goes..." Remy rubbed his stomach unhappily. He didn't want her knowing he wasn't even _remotely _excited, but there was truth to his claim. He just _didn't _feel well at all. Even if he _hadn't _had this problem with impotence he was sure he still wouldn't have been able to concentrate on feeling good while his stomach felt this way; it had been difficult enough concentrating on _her _pleasure while feeling this rough inside. His eyes fell on the clock by her bed, it was after seven thirty. "Fuck," he sat up straight, "shit...the car..."

"Huh?" she asked softly, she ran a finger absently a long his jean-clad thigh.

"I borrowed the car...fuck fuck fuck," Remy got up, his stomach still feeling unsettled as he smoothed down his t-shirt.

If Scott and Jean had returned by now from that three hour drive it took down to get to her parents, then most likely he was going to be wondering where his car was. Remy wasn't in the mood to put up with Scott's complaining tonight, he hoped he might make it back _before _Scott and Jean did, if that was even possible anymore.

"I need to go..."

"You sure?"

"Trust me...I need to get goin' or I'm gonna seriously get chewed out about this damn car."

"Okay," Rowan sighed unhappily. He could tell she'd _wanted _him to spend the night. She'd probably hoped he'd be feeling better during the late hours of the night for _more _than just sleep too.

Remy headed for her bathroom and squeezed toothpaste onto his finger and brushed his teeth and tongue as best he could with it. It was fine that Logan knew about Rowan, but all the same, he wasn't sure he wanted to go home with the smell of the girl on his breath, especially not when Logan had those senses of his.

After spitting out the foam and rinsing his mouth out, Remy kissed Rowan's cheek affectionately and announced, "I'll let myself out."

"When will I see you again?" she asked, pulling her knees up to her bare body.

"Not sure...maybe Tuesday. I'll maybe stop by and visit Rose, and maybe we can go out for coffee or somethin'."

"Okay," she smiled, she grabbed him by the collar and leaned up to kiss him deeply, her tongue brushing against his. At least she didn't seem to care about what might be on his breath, although to be fair, it was most likely just toothpaste now.

The walk down the steps to the car was agony. His backside hurt with every step; he felt like he'd been shitting hedgehogs. He was thankful when he finally made it to the convertible. The seat was burning hot still when he slipped into it, but it was somewhat soothing somehow, and it felt nice against his back which had grown a little sore due to the position he'd been leaning in while giving his girlfriend satisfaction.

He started the car and pulled the car down the street, turning into the middle of town; at this time of the evening it was likely to be heavy with traffic but it was the only way to get back to the Mansion as the one other road that led there had been blocked off due to construction work.

As was usual on a Saturday night, the centre of town was busy, lots of teenagers on the streets. There seemed to be a lot of people heading in direction of the park; a few signs and posters on walls he'd passed had claimed some band was playing live tonight. The town seemed busier than usual tonight for that reason, a lot of the kids had probably come from the neighbouring towns just to see these guys...whoever they were.

Something caught Remy completely by surprise. He had meant to let his eyes wander briefly to the posters of the movie theatre as he was driving by. He'd wanted to see what was showing, interested in what he could take Rowan to see. They were still to have a _proper _date that didn't include staying in. It was as his eyes passed by the poster with the Summer blockbluster action movie poster that he spotted – to his complete astonishment – Rogue and Piotr Rasputin talking as they were buying tickets at the old fashioned kiosk outside.

Remy blinked. Was he seeing this? Had Piotr _actually _just decided to up and ask Rogue out on a date for some bizarre unknown reason? Or was this merely to somehow get to him, to annoy him for his so-called insensitivity and stupidity?

"What the fuck?" Remy asked, watching the two disappearing into the theatre, they appeared to be smiling, laughing about something, he craned his neck to try and see through the glass doors.

He heard a loud metallic crunching sound; his head whipped round to see that he'd driven the front end of Scott's car right into someone's car. He winced.

_Fuck! Perfect! As if this day couldn't get any worse,_ he groaned. He supposed he was going to have to find a way to get out of swapping insurance details with the driver. He got out of the car slowly, swearing at himself, glancing quickly over his shoulder to look at the movie theatre. Rogue and Piotr were inside, at least they hadn't seen what he'd just done.

_Don't think I could stand any more humiliation for the day._

Remy pushed his sunglasses up his nose a little and went to examine the damage. The front of the car was dented and twisted upwards; it had hit the Mustang with some force. The Mustang had come out better but the driver – a woman in her forties – didn't look too enthusiastic about it.

He tried to apologise, it wasn't working. She was ranting at him, yelling insults like 'irresponsible cock-sucker' (which he found almost hilarious considering he'd just spent the better part of his evening giving his girlfriend oral sex), and 'fucktard'. At one point, she even accused him of being 'a brainless gormless cock-sucking gimp', it was the first time he'd ever been called that.

Remy wasn't sure how to handle this really, he didn't have his wallet with him so he couldn't afford to _pay her off_ then and there. She was threatening to call the cops, a few people from the street were watching from afar. He had to do _some _kind of damage control. He couldn't afford to get the cops involved in this, he didn't even have a valid license with him.

And then he wondered momentarily if he was capable of some of his _old_ tricks. He lowered his glasses a little and looked her straight in the eye deeply. It usually took concentration, focus right into the pupils. It had been a long time since he'd _tried _to use his hypnotic charm on anyone. Sometimes it happened without his consent, but it hadn't happened at all since his coma that he'd assumed that it – like most of his powers – had simply gone.

The warmth he felt behind his eyes and the slight headache using this power usually brought told him it was starting to work. The forty-year old woman's grey eyes started to look strangely lazy, glazed over as she looked at him.

He spoke quietly, smoothly to her. No need for insurance details, a hammer could dent out most of her damage. No need to call the cops...it was cosmetic damage...the car was fine...no need to call the cops. Just superficial...no need. No need at all.

It was a relief when she finally got into her car with that mesmerised look on her face and drove off to wherever she'd been heading before he'd rammed the car into hers.

He glanced back to the damage on Scott's convertible. It wasn't great, both lights smashed, it was going to take more than a hammer to fix this mess. He'd have to brace himself for the argument he was going to get into Scott over this.

_Own fault. Not bad enough I've had to fork out for a new tire for his girlfriend, now I'll need to pay for all this body work,_ Remy shook his head and climbed into the car. At least other than the superficial damage it was still running. With his irritated and unhappy mood he drove home, cursing having seen Piotr and Rogue together.

* * *

Rogue made herself comfortable in the VIP seat at the movie theatre. VIP seats cost more, but they were leather (or at least something remotely resembling it) and they were slightly bigger with more foot room, and space for a popcorn bucket. It'd cost five dollars extra, a bit of rip off she supposed.

"Why did you choose these seats?" asked Piotr, glancing down uneasily at the expensive looking seats, a monstrous bucket of caramel popcorn balanced in one hand.

"Good view, wider seats with more room in them – better for someone like you. No offense," she glanced up at him, "but you are on the bulkier side..."

"I'm not fat," Piotr's face looked a little hurt.

"No, but you're not _small,"_ Rogue put her large soda in the slot at her left and got comfortable, "besides, these seats are far away from _everyone _else. No one ever pays for these seats 'cause they're such a rip off...it'd just be safer for everyone," Rogue explained simply.

"I guess that's a good reason," Piotr took the seat to her right. There was lots of elbow room normally, but he had rather large elbows, so Rogue decided to keep her arms down.

Rogue wondered if this had been the same movie theatre he'd taken Kitty to on their date. They'd gone to see a movie but she couldn't remember what it was they'd gone to see, she wasn't sure actually if Kitty had even mentioned it before. The only Steakhouse in town was right around the corner, she was sure it _had _to have been this movie theatre, and not the other one that tended to show more foreign films.

_How many girls has Remy taken to the movies?_ Rogue wondered idly, staring up at the blue velvet curtains that were obscuring the cinema screen. _Has he taken his girlfriend here yet?_

She ran her fingers absently over the fake leather of the arm rest to her left. For all she knew they had been up in this area...this area was so far from the _non-VIP _area that they probably could have gotten up to _all _kinds of things here. For all she knew, she was sitting in the _exact _seat his girlfriend might have...for all _she _knew she might be sitting where Remy had been touching her up in the dark.

_No, there's cameras up there. Remy isn't _that_ stupid. He's an exhibitionist, but he wouldn't want to be caught on film unless _he _was the one filming it himself._

As the movie wasn't due to start for another ten minutes, Rogue supposed she should try and make conversation. Try to take her mind away from Remy and whatever he and his girlfriend may be getting up to or what they may already _have_ been up to.

"You ever been to this theatre before?" she asked.

"Just once," Piotr replied, his eyes fell to drink he had bought, he was trying to look distracted, she could tell. Piotr wasn't as good at lying as Remy was, he wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions painted on his face like colours on a canvas. Right now, he seemed almost blue...and a little red with embarrassment, it was hard to tell with such dim lighting.

Rogue pretended to _just_ remember this fact, and nodded, "Oh...with Kitty, right? That time you guys went out."

Piotr gave a slow but reluctant nod; he pretended to be more interested in unwrapping his straw and pushing it slowly and carefully into the slot at the top of his soda cup. The careful way he did it made Rogue almost think the careful way men thought of sliding into a virgin for the first time as if they were 'testing the waters'.

Rogue shuddered, she hated when those thoughts came out of nowhere, but having absorbed powers _and _memories from men more than once, these things did occasionally pop up without warning, and there sometimes wasn't even so much as a single link to who the memory belonged to.

In this case, she supposed it was going to either be Logan or Remy. She didn't want to think of _either_ sliding into _any _woman, let alone a _virgin._

Piotr sipped from his gigantic cup of Pepsi, she heard the ice bumping around the cup and clicking around as he moved. He took a sip, eyes on the curtains, as if he were far too interested in them.

"What did you guys see?"

"I don't remember," Piotr said quickly, then asked, "who is in this film, anyway?"

"Adam Sandler," she replied.

"I like Adam Sandler," Piotr announced, "he is funny man."

"Eh, he's okay," Rogue shrugged, "So was it a comedy? Romance?"

"Hmmm?" asked Piotr, his face going slightly red. He realised what it was she meant, "oh, uhm...it was an action film, I think."

"Ah see," said Rogue. She tried to picture the scene. Kitty and Piotr together next to each other somewhere down in the normal seating areas, their elbows close together, the thick darkness around them, the lights from the film flashing round lighting up their faces.

What had gone wrong?

Had her powers not been so dangerous, she might have considered finding a way to _accidentally _graze her skin against Piotr's so she could try and read the memory, to determine what had happened and if anything was salvageable.

It seemed a shame to have two people who clearly _liked _each other pretend as if the other didn't exist. It didn't seem right.

Rogue would have given anything for Remy to _like her_ again even if it meant pretending she didn't exist. All the same, it would be nice to see Kitty happy. Didn't she owe her that much to see if she could mend what damage had somehow been done?

_But who did the damage?_ Rogue wondered as she picked a piece of popcorn out of the large bucket they had bought to share. She chewed thoughtfully and tried to think of what she knew about the date.

It was the meal Kitty claimed had turned it all wrong, when he'd eaten meat in front of her, the smell of it making her feel sick. But that wasn't like Kitty, she ate in the company of others all the time while they were dining on meat, it never _usually _bothered her.

"You wanna go for steak after the movie?" Rogue asked; it was too much to hope for she supposed that it might get Piotr talking.

Piotr frowned a little, his expression seemed to speak of unhappy memories, "I'm not all that hungry actually."

"Maybe you will be after the movie," she shrugged. _Yeah, that's right Rogue, take your mind off of your own bullshit by meddlin' in the bullshit of others, that's the way to go,_ she could almost imagine Logan saying to her. She could also imagine Logan telling her to mind her own beeswax and to _not _interfere with Kitty and Piotr's personal lives.

_Ah'm not interferin', Ah'm just here watchin' a movie with a friend,_ she reminded herself calmly. She gazed at Piotr who looked slightly ill at ease. She realised she was making him feel awkward, he _probably _thought she had some kind of ulterior motive. She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she'd unintentionally given him the impression that this _was _a date.

"Ah'm sorry," she spoke up a little nervously, "Ah forgot to take my anxiety medication earlier. Ah get a little...Ah don't know, nervous...chatty..." she lied. She had taken it, it just hadn't kicked in yet. "Ah haven't been out in so long, sometimes Ah forget how to act...Ah'm sorry..."

"It's fine," Piotr admitted, his eyes met hers briefly.

"Ah haven't had an outing with friends for so long either..."

"Why did you just ask me and not any of the others?" he asked uneasily.

"Because too many people...you know..." she shrugged, "they're all waitin' for me to go off the rails, you know? They all watch me like they expect it."

Piotr nodded, he understood. She was sure he had noticed it too.

"Besides, you hardly ever go out either. Ah just thought it'd be nice to hang out is all."

He seemed almost relieved she'd confirmed that they were just here as friends, nothing more than that.

They settled to watch the film and Rogue tried to take her mind away from her troubles, but it was difficult. Although they had picked a comedy, the plot had romantic back story. It was always hard watching romantic stories and remembering she'd _never _have a romantic life of her own again.

She sighed inwardly, she was glad when the anti-anxiety medication she'd taken just before they'd left for the movie theatre had finally kicked in. Her mind drifted to the way Logan had mumbled something quietly to Piotr before they'd left. She was almost sure he'd warned Piotr to keep an eye on her.

Yes, Logan _also _expected she'd go off the rails sooner or later. She supposed she expected it herself eventually.

_Ah'll deal with that when it happens,_ she told herself. _Right now, all Ah can do is just keep goin' on like nothin' is wrong. Maybe sooner or later somethin' will fall in to place..._

She hoped it would be sooner than later.

* * *

**End of Part Eighteen**

* * *

**A short chapter this time around but an update at least for the weekend. I hope I'm not about to get horrifically flamed for Remy's acts on Rowan. Just so you all know, I'll be hiding in a panic room somewhere and setting up firewalls just in case, lol. Thanks so much to all for the reviews. I don't think Remy did sense a disturbance in the force (I'm pretty certain it was just a bad Dopiaza...pretty sure there'll be some disturbance in the force when Scott gets his car back though, lmao).**

**Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter, I'm off to watch Bates Motel and hide from Rowan haters ;)**


	19. Part 19

**Slight Return**

**Part Nineteen**

* * *

The movie had left Rogue feeling more blue than she had all day. Although there'd been a happy ending (as there was always was in such films) the film had been more _sad_ than funny. Regardless of feeling blue, she made a point of pretending to Piotr that she had thoroughly enjoyed the film and had found it hilarious. She hoped he would report back to Logan and tell him that she seemed to have had a nice time.

_Maybe then he'll calm down a little, stop getting on my back about how I need to get it together and move on,_ Rogue thought as she bit into the Red Velvet Cupcake she'd bought at the cakeshop they'd stopped at before heading home. Piotr had finished his in two bites, she was still struggling to eat it as it was large and incredibly rich.

"Did you have a nice time out?" Piotr asked casually, making conversation as he drove up the long drive of the institute grounds in his white transit van, an elbow leaning out of the open window, the other hand light on the wheel.

"Yeah, it's been nice getting out for a little bit," she confessed. She did feel that way although her mood was low. All she could think about was that Remy was probably shacked up with his girlfriend somewhere getting off. He hadn't been home earlier when she'd left. In fact, according to a few of the others, he hadn't even been home since he'd left for work at four-fifteen that morning.

"Perhaps next time we should go out with group of people," Piotr suggested. "Bowling, maybe?"

Rogue gave a vague laugh, "Logan warned me off bowling...Ah'd probably wreck some stuff if Ah tried to bowl right now with the condition of my powers..."

Piotr smirked a little, "it would make for some interesting competition, though."

"Ah'm sure," she made a face at the thought of how if she began winning purely because her powers left her much stronger, that the others might start using _their _powers to cheat at the game. Arguments would ensue – as they usually did – and the night would be a disaster. No, bowling was definitely _not_ an ideal time out with a bunch of people right now.

In fact, right now she was certain that although she could handle her friends in large numbers at home, she wasn't sure she could manage the same outside. Too many eyes on her all at once, waiting. She decided to admit her feelings about this, not because she was in the mood to share much more, but because she wanted lay some groundwork to the question that was still burning at the back of her mind. Why Piotr's and Kitty's date had gone so spectacularly bad that it had caused a rift between them.

"Ah'm...not sure Ah could handle a big group outin' to be honest," Rogue admitted, trying to sound slightly uneasy, "Small numbers...that's totally all right by me...we could do a group of three. Ah could invite Kitty next time."

She sat there waiting, watching for his reaction. She saw him flush, first from the neck and upwards, his cheeks growing hot and red, his expression taut. His cheek seemed to twitch and somehow, sounding strained, he managed a very thick, "that would be fine."

She sighed inwardly. No, it wasn't going to be fine. He didn't want that any more than _she _wanted a huge group of people. She'd have rather he admitted he didn't want her there so that she could pester him about _why._ But he was playing it smart, being diplomatic about it rather than dredging up any unpleasantness. That was always his way.

"She's still been kind of blue since Lance did what he did," Rogue carefully brought up, still watching Piotr, hoping that she could reel him in. The problem was getting him to take the _bait _first. "She could probably use a good night out."

"I'm sure," said Piotr, attention on the road, expression troubled, jaw set.

Still observing, she tried to gauge if it was Kitty's lingering feelings for Lance that happened to be the issue. Perhaps, there did seem to be just a slight flicker of jealousy there, hidden behind the cornflower blue of his eyes; the last lingering rays of sunset light cut across his face and for one moment she saw a strange regret mixed with deep shame.

Rogue wished he'd just _say _what was on his mind. She couldn't find a way to ask it straight out, she wasn't like Remy LeBeau, she couldn't just say what was on her mind, she had to have tact here. Only there wasn't enough time to find a tactful way of getting it out of him, they were already almost home.

As the van pulled up the drive and made its way closer to the mansion, voices began to drift down; it was yelling, but Rogue couldn't make out what was being said.

"Sounds like someone is mad," Piotr admitted, easing up on the gas as the drive became a little narrower.

"Not unusual in this place," Rogue commented darkly. Arguments at the mansion always ensued eventually. Everyone got along most of the time but there was always room for someone to have a problem with someone else. In a house full of teenagers, arguments were expected. "It'd be more unusual if it was _silent_," she teased.

The voices got louder, and Rogue leaned out of her window a little to listen a little more; to her surprise it was Scott and Remy who were standing outside the garage by Scott's car arguing.

Jean was standing by what looked to be a brand new Prius, the keys dangling from her slim fingers. Rogue rolled her eyes.

_Great. Perfect princess gets another chariot, all shiny and new and silver, _Rogue thought in disgust. Her eyes swayed to where Scott was throwing up his hands but she couldn't see because of Jean's car.

"So what?! You got _no _insurance details whatsoever?! This woman just _slams_ on her brakes, you crash my car and you just drive _off?!_

"Look, it wasn't her fault, it was the guy up in front of her," Remy tried to explain, "he swerved to avoid some skateboarder...I saw the whole thing-"

"You _still _have to take her details!" snapped Scott. "Look at the mess of my car!" he gestured to it.

Piotr parked the van and Rogue got out, examining Scott's beloved red convertible. The front end was wrecked, both headlights smashed, the front dented and out of shape, crushed like the front of a soda can. It was surprising Remy had even been able to drive it back here in that condition without being pulled over by the police. He'd gotten _lucky._

Rogue gaped at the mess and at the situation. How had Remy, who'd _always _been such a careful driver and was always so aware on the road managed to make a blunder like that? It wasn't like him! She thought to what he'd said about the woman in front slamming the brakes. That would have made some kind of sound he'd have caught surely?

_His reflexes are normally so good...how could he have not slammed on the brakes in time himself? That ain't like him...he's always so fast thinking...Jesus...what happened? _

"I'll pay for it," Remy rolled his eyes, he was getting irritated and bored, Rogue could see it in his face. For one brief moment, Remy looked at her and Piotr and his expression was strangely dark.

"How you gonna pay?" Scott scoffed.

_ "_I'll get the money together, maybe Hank can repair some of the damage if I get the parts in..." Remy stepped towards the car as if he wanted to give it another look so he could determine if this were possible. Immediately, Scott pushed him back roughly; the look on Scott's face said he didn't want the Cajun anywhere _near _his beloved car. Remy's eyes seemed to become immediately darker, the look on his face beginning to shift into anger; the lingering sunset made him look red and explosive, made his eyes look black and dangerous.

"You can't even pay for that shitheap you call a _bike_ that's still in pieces in the garage!" Scott snarled through his teeth.

"Push me again and I swear to god-" Remy warned him.

"You don't know how _much _I had to save and work to get that car! You just don't care, you take everyone else's shit like it doesn't matter, like it costs nothing. You damage it and you stand there shrugging your shoulders!"

"I said I was sorry," Remy said through gritted teeth, his jaw seemed to be trembling, he was restraining himself and Rogue felt unease tighten her neck and run her blood cold, she could predict what was going to happen if Scott didn't calm down. She'd seen Remy get angry before when he was pushed and provoked, and she was sure that when Remy got angry enough he could definitely get the better of Scott. Especially since Remy had recovered so much as of late. Remy - unlike Scott - wasn't a clean fighter. Rogue wondered if Scott was at all aware of this? This time _wouldn't _be like the time he'd accosted Scott in the hallway in the subbasement. It would be _far _worse if Scott wasn't careful.

_Quiet down, Scott, look at his face, don't piss him off, don't you remember the last time?_ Rogue thought pleadingly. She wished she could tell him this, but she wasn't sure she was _permitted _to give advice right now. The tension in the air was too thick for it. She was praying one of the instructors would come out and break the argument up but so far, no one had come to see what all the yelling was about.

"This is the _second_ time the span of a month you've damaged our cars," Scott snapped, "you still owe Jean money for the tire that she had to _pay _to replace..."

Jean tried to speak up, "Scott, it's fine, just calm down..."

"It's _not _fine!" Scott was furious, "He takes our cars without asking all the time, he's made you late twice in the past month, he's ruined your tires-"

"_A _tire," Remy cut in, "_one _tire."

"And he just doesn't even _care,"_ Scott was still going on, his face getting redder by the moment so that it nearly envied his ruby quartz glasses. "All he does is _use _wherever he goes, wears it out and _doesn't _care about the consequences!"

Piotr climbed out, "What happened?" he asked of them, as if he hadn't just overheard the entire exchange just as Rogue had.

"The ragin' cajun here decided to wreck my fucking car," Scott griped.

Jean tried again, "Scott, just calm down..." she pleaded, reaching for him, but Scott shrugged out of her touch furiously.

"Are you serious? Calm down?!" Scott gestured to the car again, "look at it! It's totalled!"

"He said he was sorry," Rogue finally managed to speak up, trying to mediate since none of the instructors had come out yet to even attempt to do so and Jean didn't seem to be doing a very good job at it either right now. Besides, if something _was _wrong with Remy and it had been what had caused the accident, it was probably best to try and calm the situation before it got worse. "He's a careful driver, Scott...he didn't _mean to-"_

"Oh, of course _you'd _defend him," Scott interjected as he threw her a look.

Rogue blinked, "what's...that meant to mean?" she managed, quite taken aback by the accusation that she was picking sides.

Remy was breathing heavily, his eyes straight on Scott, his eyes burning dark and intense; he was sweating profusely, his colour looked a little off. Rogue tried to ignore this for now, as Scott was attacking _her _now too.

"You know what it means, you _always _side with him," Scott snapped.

"Ah do not..." Rogue tried, her voice weak. She didn't like confrontation, especially not when she felt slightly light-headed and tired from her medication. She wasn't sure she was equipped to deal with this. She wished she hadn't tried to intervene. The logical thing to do would have been to go inside and get one of the instructors...Logan would have nipped this entire exchange in the bud within a _second,_ he'd have snapped his fingers and it would have immediately ceased.

Scott continued, his voice loud, his expression wild, "Gambit can do no wrong in your eyes. Never _could. _You'd let him away with murder as long as he looked good _doing it._ He tells you he doesn't even love you and you still can't help but run to his defense when he gets himself in to deep shit...rushing to defend him like you think it'll win you favours! You're such a push over."

Rogue's lips trembled, she couldn't respond, she felt utterly humiliated. Jean and Piotr were both looking at her, waiting for something to be said, both seemed too shocked for words. Her lungs seemed to deflate, her chest growing tight, heart ceasing to beat, she felt tears beginning to sting her eyes and she remained still as she attempted to hold them back.

Remy snapped into action as if someone had just hit an 'on' switch and he'd sprung to life. He had the front of Scott's button down shirt gripped tightly in both hands in a flash and with a good amount of force he had slammed the slightly taller boy right down onto the hood of the damaged car. Scott's glasses fell off a brief flash of a beam of his powers cut into the sky and disappear as Remy dodged it, Scott closed his eyes, head turning, face scrunched up as he held his eyes tightly shut to avoid injuring anyone.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Scott demanded in panic, he tried to get away, feeling around for where the glasses might have fallen, but they had already landed on the gravel of the drive.

Remy held Scott right there to the hood of the car, pinning him. He leaned down and snarled right into his face in a voice that was cold and unfeeling. "Apologise."

"What?"

"You fucking heard me!"

Piotr moved closer, put his hand on Remy's shoulder lightly trying to be careful not to set him off, "my friend, you must calm down."

"Get back!" warned Remy.

"You are out of control," Piotr warned him gently.

"You would just _stand _there and let him act this way!?" Remy demanded loudly.

"You must let him go," Piotr tried to command, trying to sound stronger now, but it was clear he was unnerved, Rogue saw it on the look on his face. As brave as Piotr was, he _didn't _like to see Remy like this. "Let him go, and we can all forget about this," he squeezed Remy's shoulder.

"Not until he fuckin' apologises," Remy shrugged off Piotr's hand.

"Apologise to you for wrecking my car?!" demanded Scott.

"Not to me," Remy pulled him back up and swung him in the direction of Rogue. Scott stumbled a little over his own feet, unable to see he felt out, nearly knocking over Jean in the process. Jean seemed to frowning, Rogue was stunned the girl couldn't seem to muster up a fight with her powers to try and break this up right now. Remy held Scott a foot in front of Rogue, "to _her."_

Jean shakily reached down and picked up the ruby quartz glasses, she put them onto Scott carefully as Remy held him there, Scott trying to pry his hands away from his shirt but finding it difficult. Remy might have had average strength, but Rogue knew how scarily powerful he could be when fury took him. Rogue stared wide eyed at the man who had just _insulted_ and _humiliated _her in front of her friends all in one go. She hugged herself insecurely and turned her eyes away from both men, she was too afraid to look at Scott, afraid she'd burst into tears, and at the same time she was too afraid to look at Remy, afraid of the _fury _she'd see in his eyes.

_"Apologise," _Remy snarled near Scott's ear again.

Scott stammered, "I'm..."

"I said _APOLOGISE," _Remy snapped.

"I'm sorry, Rogue...I...I was just so—so..." Scott managed weakly, he couldn't seem to find much more in the way of expanation.

"It's fine..." Rogue managed, emotion making her voice thick. No, it wasn't fine. It was never going to be _fine. _She felt Piotr's strong arm behind her back, his hand grip her shoulder supportively, he gave her a slight shake to let her know he was there, standing by her, as friends always do.

_ "_Say whatever you wanna say about me," Remy began coldly, releasing his grip from Scott's shirt. "But you speak to her like that again and I swear to god, I'll break your face..." he warned. "And then I'll use that precious car of yours as target practice for my powers until they're strong enough to leave it looking like junkyard scrap metal. Got it?"

Scott said nothing, his face was red with humiliation and fury. He turned his glance away from Remy.

"Now," continued Remy, suddenly sounding so eerily calm, his breathing was fast though, there was still a flicker of anger in his intense eyes, "I'll pay for whatever damages I incurred. I always _do. _And while we're on the subject, I left an envelope in the glove compartment of Jean's car yesterday _with _money for the tire..."

Jean and Scott exchanged looks. Jean gave a soft groan but didn't say anything, she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, her cheeks growing pink.

"But I'm guessin' you never even bothered to check before handin' it over," Remy snorted, he shook his head in disgust. "You know what, fuck you, I'm so done with this conversation."

Rogue swallowed hard, she wanted to get inside, she felt so much like crying and she wasn't sure she'd be able to withhold it all much longer. She pushed past them all to get to the door before anyone else could and she ran up the stairs without a word to anyone, hoping the tears wouldn't come flooding out and the sobs wouldn't escape _before _she could get out of sight and earshot. She wasn't about to let anyone see another break down.

She'd barely gotten to her bedroom, still holding onto the tears, almost ready to release her anxiety. She had to immediately find a way to compose herself as she found Kitty in there typing an email on her tablet, her hair loose around her shoulders, wet from a shower. She hadn't expected the girl to be there...she'd mentioned going to a concert. Now she didn't even have the privacy of her own room to cry in without an audience.

"Hey," said Kitty, sounding oddly casual, not even looking up. "Looked for you earlier when I was heading to the library to see if you wanted to go...couldn't see you."

"Oh," Rogue managed, she drew a breath through her nose, her stomach quivering with the effort of holding back a sob.

"I got you out a book about Angels being bad and trying to take over the world or something," said Kitty, nodding in the direction of Rogue's bed where the book lay. "Sounded like something you'd read..."

Rogue glanced to the book, the title was Angel, it looked like the kind of corny fiction that girls in their preteens read when they had run out of Twilight and Hunger Games novels to devour.

"So where were you anyway?" Kitty turned her attention back to what she was typing. Her expression was clouded, she was _pretending _to be completely clueless. She already _knew. _Why was she playing this game? To seem like she didn't care? To pretend like it didn't bother her?

"Ah...Ah was out, Ah went to the movies...with Piotr..." Rogue struggled to say steadily. "Ah told you...remember...?"

Kitty seemed to become rather still; she didn't look up, nor make any kind of expression at all. After a moment in a strange calm tone almost devoid of any emotion she replied with, "Oh...yeah...I totally like, forgot."

"Yeah..." Rogue grabbed a clean pair of pyjamas from her dresser hastily, she had to look like she'd had a reason to come in quickly and leave again; she had to get out of here, she was close to tears as it was and she didn't want Kitty seeing it. "Ah'm gonna get changed for bed," she managed as calmly as she could; if Kitty detected any hint of emotion in her voice, she didn't let on. Whether the girl was too preoccupied or had chosen to ignore it, Rogue wasn't positive, all she could be was _thankful._

* * *

Remy sighed as he sat down at the bottom of his bed wearily. If he hadn't had a headache before, he certainly had one now.

_Jesus, why did I let him get me riled like that? Why is it that guy _always _knows how to push all my buttons and get me in a rage? _he demanded of himself, frustration biting at every part of him like a pitfull of angry venomous snakes.

The look on Rogue's face had been so...

_So hurt...so devastated. Why'd he say that to her? Why'd he have to say it in front of Jean and Pete? What kind of asshole does that? I know he's under a lot of pressure, but...fuck, so am I...so is Rogue..._

Remy rubbed his forehead. He couldn't get the look on Rogue's face out of his mind, he hadn't seen her so devastated since the day he'd told her that he couldn't _ever _love her.

_Why say somethin' like that when she's tryin' to get better, tryin' to get over things...all he's done is make it worse. If she goes back to the way she was before she went to that island...I swear to god I'll fucking-_

Remy stopped himself. He'd what? He'd hurt him? Maybe. It wasn't outside the realm of things he was capable of if he got angry enough. He didn't want to hurt anyone intentionally of course, especially not someone he had to _work _with on the team. But all it would take was one more thing and he wasn't sure he'd be able to prevent himself from having that reaction.

_Suppose Scott is gonna go run to the Professor. Cry to daddy, get Remy kicked out. I'm on my last warning as it is. Guess I better think about findin' some money to put together for an emergency just in case I _do_ get kicked out._

He drew a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He felt so angry he was shaking. He looked down at his fingers, he could actually _see _the trembling.

_Fuck, I hate this,_ he groaned inwardly. _Any angrier...I would have hit him. Wouldn't have regretted it either._

Remy hated that he actually wished he had hit him, he regretted not having taken the shot. It might have gotten him kicked out, but he'd have felt better. He wondered if some small part of Rogue might have even liked that Scott had gotten what he'd deserved. No, he felt that Rogue would probably have probably reprimanded him, moved to Scott's side regardless of what he'd said.

Remy lay down on his bed and tried to will away the headache and the discomfort his stomach upset had left him with. His gut still felt unsettled, churning and gurgling like an unbalanced washing machine throwing around a heavy load.

For a good while, he just remained there, trying to relax and not feeling remotely relaxed at all. The room was too hot and he felt too uncomfortable and on edge. He wanted to get changed and go for a shower but he felt like he didn't have the energy.

He lay there tense and overheated, trying to change the subject of his thoughts to something more pleasant to calm his mind. His thoughts shifted to the things he'd done to Rowan in her bedroom. The way she'd shaken under his touch, moaned, begged for it, gripped onto his shoulders, his neck, his hair, the way her fingernails had caught on his neck a little near the end...

Normally, after getting a woman off like this so successfully and having drawn it out in such a way, he usually felt quite accomplished. It was usually something that always left him feeling pleased with himself, so powerful and devious. He had always regarded the activity as enjoyable before, had always revelled in being in control, relished _impressing_ the woman with his skill and ability to make her scream.

Right now, there was a strange blankness in him to accompany the thought of the event. There was _nothing _attached to what he'd done, just...an emptiness. Getting Rowan off had been about as satisfying as a long day at work doing things he hated doing for very little payout.

_Maybe it's just 'cause I didn't get off too...didn't even get it up...what's enjoyable about one-sided sex?_ He wondered, staring up at the ceiling unhappily.

No, one-sided sex was still enjoyable regardless, he'd had a few brief encounters where he hadn't had what he wanted, things he'd done just for the hell of it. Watching the look on a woman's face at that moment, the sheer unadulterated ecstasy, that was the enjoyable part.

He hadn't even been looking for it on Rowan; he hadn't glanced up to see what her face was like, to see the ecstasy, the bliss. He hadn't even bothered to listen hard enough to see if she'd called his name out in her rapture.

Remy groaned a little as his stomach rumbled and almost seemed to whistle with the pain and the internal churning. He touched his belly and winced at the thought that the stomach upset might continue into the night. He remembered he'd taken the diarrhoea relief pills with him – at least he'd have something to soothe it a little for now. He felt around in his pocket and found the blister pack, he pulled it free and glanced down at the silver foil and the label, the name of the brand didn't exactly hide what it was for.

_Would probably be advised to take another before goin' to sleep so I maybe don't end up wakin' up durin' the night covered in my own shit,_ he supposed, grimacing at the thought. He'd been almost about to push a pill out of the foil when a light footstep caught his attention at his door – he hadn't even realised he'd left it sitting ajar. He'd been too sore, tired and irritated to pay much attention to shut it as he normally did.

He saw Rogue's silhouette in the dimness surrounding the hall as the door pushed open, and instinctively he pushed the pills out of sight under his thigh to hide them. He didn't want her knowing that he'd been shitting fire all day and so it was best to hide the pills for now; there was only so much humiliation he could endure in one day and besides, after learning about his new girlfriend after already having broken Rogue's heart months back he was sure Rogue might only _revel _in the thought that he probably deserved his current condition.

"Rogue..." he leaned up a little looking at her; she was wearing the most ridiculous pyjamas he'd ever seen her in. Some kind of cartoon gothic-looking panda decorated the purple bottoms while her pink and purple striped top had a large image of it with a bloodied knife between it's teeth.

He'd have almost laughed if it weren't for the fact he felt so ill and tense...he might have laughed had he not immediately felt a pang of lust too. It felt so horribly wrong, there she stood in childish pyjamas looking shy and here his body ached despite he felt ill and unlike himself. Panda PJ's or not, he wanted to throw her to the bed and grind himself against her, see where that could lead. It would be a perfect end to a day that had left him feeling rougher than a porcupines ass.

Rogue's face was scrubbed clean of makeup; as she stepped into the light a little he could see by the puffiness of her eyelids and the pinkness of her eyes that she had been crying. He supposed he'd expected that after the way Scott had spoken to her, although he wished she'd been strong enough to withstand it, show that asshole that she didn't feel his jabs.

The sight of her looking puffy eyed and sad didn't help to dull the lust that left his pants slightly uncomfortable. He sat up slowly, leaning forward a little, trying to hide it from view, trying to appear to be looking as if he were trying to get comfortable rather than hide the growing problem. When her attention was elsewhere, he pulled at the crotch of his pants to loosen them a little, to make room, aware that soon it would be getting very constricting.

She was standing, looking around his room at the mess of his clothes which he hadn't bothered cleaning up in days. Not a single word was uttered. She hadn't said why she'd come, she just hovered, like she was trying to find the strength to say what was on her mind, looking for the right words to begin with.

Remy supposed he should be the one to broach the subject. He supposed he owed her some kind of apology for his behaviour out there, it had been a little uncalled for, a little...wild. He began rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans, this would be so much easier if he wasn't battling with desire for someone he didn't even _want _to be with. "I'm sorry, okay?" he blurted anxiously.

Her eyes swayed in his direction tiredly, her expression curious and sombre. "Huh?"

"I'm _sorry. _About the way I acted. I know it was stupid, I was bein' an asshole-"

This was an apology he felt he must have given too many times before by now. He should have just printed it out on a piece of card, had it laminated and handed it out whenever he said or did something wrong. He found himself wondering just how many of those cards he would need to keep on hand? A couple dozen? More like _hundreds._

Rogue shook her head, "Ah didn't come for an apology..."

"You didn't?" he asked in vague disbelief. This was a surprise. He'd expected to be told off, or asked what he thought he was thinking. He'd already imagined the things she _might _want to say. About how he had no right to lay his hands on Scott, how he was an idiot, how he was just _asking _to be kicked out, how he had no right to interfere or fight her battles for her.

How could it be she wasn't here for an apology? How could she _not _be here to give him a piece of her mind?

With a deep sigh she moved over, hugging herself insecurely, her face so pale and drawn; her nose was slightly peeling from sunburn, her cheeks were dry from the same. "Ah just...wanted to say thanks..."

"For bein' an asshole?" he asked incredulously, he leaned forward a little more, hoping the bulging burden between his legs was well out of her view.

"Ah'm not sure what for," she admitted, she looked around his room, as if she'd never been there before, as if she should be giving it a proper look.

"Couldn't let him talk about you like that," Remy admitted, he let his arms rest on his knees, feeling this might be the best way to hide the problem. "Weren't right. Anyway...he was just...talkin' out his ass..." he grunted, his eyes falling down to the bed covers. It was so hard looking at her like this, it left him guilty and confused.

Rogue sat on the very end of his bed, her chest rising and falling as she sighed again, her hair falling over her eyes a little. His mind raced; there she was, sitting on his bed, in his room, she'd shut the door. He considered how easy it would be to just get up and _lock _that door. How easy it would be to push her down to the bed and have his way somehow. Oh it would be basic..._very_ basic...but it'd get the job done. The urge to have the problem handled quickly was much stronger than the sense of guilt that he knew he'd be left with afterwards.

_Would she...? _he wondered, staring at her, trying to determine where he stood. Oh, it would be ill-advised, certainly, and it would of course be detrimental to her mental health to be _used _like that, but part of him had to wonder if she'd _let _herself be. His groin throbbed at the thought of her hands on him, the danger of how much she could _hurt _him only made it more exciting. The danger of how it would be to try and be with her all the while avoiding accidents left him aching like a convict out on parole after twenty-five years without sex.

_No, you're not gonna do that...you're not gonna even think it. She's your _friend _for fucks sake, not a fuck buddy. Besides, what about your _girlfriend?!_ What about Rowan?! _He demanded of himself angrily.

His eyes fell down to where Rogue had placed her left hand on the mattress; so much temptation to grab her hand and try to lead it to his aching member. Remy LeBeau didn't beg for sex, but at that moment he considered getting on his knees and begging and crying for it.

This was so confusing, how could he not love her...not even _want _to be with her but want her this way? _It's just attraction,_ he told himself. _That's all...just attraction, and only because she's gotten better, because she looks healthy...and because you know you can _never _have her that way. _

Rogue was looking to the floor, trying to think of something to say. Nothing was coming, she'd been hurt by Scott's words and now she needed something to make her feel better.

_I know a few ways I could make you feel better, Rogue,_ he thought crudely. _I could do things to you that'd leave the whole mansion shakin'...you'd be tremblin' so hard you'd break the bed,_ he shifted his eyes to her crotch, wondering how far he _could _go. Gloves maybe would help...latex gloves might be a little clinical for this kind of thing but it would get the job done. It'd maybe even be kinky.

Rogue chewed her lip, she swept her hair out of her eyes and turned to look at him, not sure what to say any more. She'd come to say thank you and she'd said it...but now what? An awkwardness hovered between them...it was sexual tension on his part, and probably _still _heartbreak on hers.

Heartbreak or not...he wanted his way. _Jesus, she needs to leave before I end up doin' somethin' stupid, _he winced inwardly. Her lips parted, she wanted to say something, to _ask _something, but she stopped herself. He wasn't sure what it might be and that moment he didn't care either. All he could think of was how pretty that mouth would be on him...

_Stop it, stop it, stop it,_ he groaned at himself. _Don't let it happen like the last time,_ he told himself sternly, pushed his legs together a little, squeezing the bulge between his thighs, hiding it from her more, hoping the pressure would constrict the blood flow.

Rogue's expression was worried, she'd noticed something was up. He had to distract her, he had to take her attention off what was bothering him. As much as Remy didn't want to defend Scott Summers, it was the only thing he could think of that was _going _to turn this around and get her mind away from what was going on. To make it better for Rogue and to make it less humiliating for him he _had _to make Scott the good guy, even if it meant embarrassing himself and making himself look the fool it was better than letting Rogue see she got him harder than the Sunday paper Super Sudoku.

"Don't worry about Scott, I'll fix it. I got him mad, that's all...I always get him mad...and he had every right to be. I should have known better. Me and him, oil and water, we don't mix."

"Which one is the oil?" she asked dully, her eyes searched his. She was surprised by the admission

"Oil always comes out on top so...probably me," Remy smirked, but it was feigned for her benefit. "He didn't mean it. He just has a temper...that's why he said what he said," Remy continued.

"Then why did he say it?" Rogue licked her lips again, he tried to take his mind away from that. Her tongue on him would be sublime right now.

_Fuck, I'm getting real close...she needs to leave and I need to get in a cold shower fast..._

_ "_Why would he make such a big deal out of it?" Rogue asked unhappily, breaking the chain of thoughts that had shifted into _sharing _a shower with her.

Remy sniffed a little indignantly about it. Scott had meant it, but it hadn't been aimed at him, it _had _been aimed at Rogue. Still, Rogue could be persuaded to believe otherwise. "You know why, Rogue," he stated calmly.

Rogue shook her head, "no..."

"It's obvious, ain't it?" Remy's mind worked quickly to build the lie, "he wanted to make me feel like shit. He knows how bad I made you feel, how I _fucked _with your feelings...he knows I felt bad over it too and that I still feel guilty about it..."

Her eyes didn't leave the floor, he was glad. He didn't want her looking in his eyes because _this _admission was true. He did still feel guilty about breaking her heart. He couldn't help it if he didn't have the same feelings, but that didn't mean he didn't still feel bad about it.

_Scott wasn't smart enough to try and use that kind of bullshit against me, but Rogue is probably naïve enough to believe me if I tell her he is,_ Remy told himself.

"He wanted to make me feel worse..." Remy continued firmly.

Her eyes dropped to the floor again, "did it work?" she asked unhappily.

It might have not been Scott's intention at all, but at that moment, yes it had. He _had _felt worse. Perhaps that was why he had snapped and lunged for him in the way he had. Seeing Rogue's face the instant those words had been spoken had left him feeling _incredibly_ guilty.

He had to consider how he wanted to respond; if he said _yes, _was he giving her false hope? If he said _no, _was he admitting he had no sensitivity at all?

The evasive trait in him told him to go down the road in the middle, and so quietly, he confessed, "maybe..."

"Oh."

"Look, he's a jerk, but he didn't mean it. He cares about you, you _know _that. He didn't want to hurt you, he'd _never _want to hurt you. He's just...I don't know...maybe he has PMS or something," Remy teased.

"PMS..." she repeated thickly.

"Yeah...he's probably on his _manstrual _cycle..."

"Manstrual cycle?" Rogue turned to stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah...it's like a menstrual cycle, but with less grossness and more bitchiness. If you look it up in the dictionary, there's probably a picture of Scott right next to it."

Rogue gave a faint smile, she rubbed her hands together absently, looking quite upset nonetheless.

Remy chewed the inside of his cheek, looking at her. "I'll apologise to Scott properly when I've calmed down a bit and so has he," Remy said. He supposed he should, it was his fault, he had to deal with the consequences. If it'd make things easier for everyone, he supposed he could sacrifice his pride. "I wrecked his car, it was my fault...you shouldn't have gotten in the crossfire. I'm sorry."

Rogue looked at Remy questioningly and then suddenly she said, "you're normally such a careful driver..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, his cheeks growing hot. He'd been so distracted by his raging hard-on and the discussion about what Scott had said that he'd almost forgotten what had caused him to crash into the other car in the first place. He couldn't really explain that to Rogue, or why it had bothered him. _Did _it bother him? No...it surprised him though. Hell, he supposed considering her heart break she had moved on pretty goddamn fast.

_Let it go...she deserves a little happiness...and hell, what better guy to give it to her than Pete? He's the kindest person you know...he'll take care of her in ways you _never _could._

As much as he wanted to let it go and as much as he _didn't _think it was his business to ask, he still wanted to see if she was going to admit or deny anything. Remy decided to ask about where she'd been. "Where were you and Pete tonight, anyway? You were just coming home when me and Scott were yellin' at each other in the driveway..."

"Oh..." Rogue realised, "we went to see a movie..." she answered.

_So, least she's bein' truthful,_ Remy supposed. He'd almost expected her to evade the question, or almost to rub it in. But she was simple, matter of fact about it, but nothing more. He looked at her, watching for any signs of secrecy, or embarrassment, happiness or unhappiness. "Have a good time?"

"Yeah, I guess," she gave a shrug. "Pete's fun to be with. His English is getting really good now..."

"Yeah..." Remy nodded, he tried to lighten the moment, "this one time he asked me to go down to-" he began.

"Vagina," Rogue finished for him, sounding tired as she stood up.

Remy looked up at her, inwardly wincing. Why was it when _she _said the word it left him so close to the edge that his body flushed with a mix of delight _and _distress?

_Stop torturin' yourself. Cold shower, now. _

Remy's brows furrowed a little...he didn't remember ever relaying that tale to her nor did he think Piotr would have admitted it to her, "I told you that story?"

"Yeah," Rogue headed for the door, "and about how when you first met he asked you if you wanted to taste his American Cock."

Her saying this was almost as bad as saying the 'V' word. He tightened, his stomach clenched, he was terribly close to the edge. _Want to taste mine? I ain't talkin' about the Pepsi, chere...just hard, unadulterated, one-hundred percent six inches of American Cock..._

He hated thinking like this towards her, it felt so wrong, made him feel cheap and selfish. He pushed the thoughts aside and tried to focus on what they'd been discussing.

The memory of Piotr's broken and mangled English when they had first met left him smiling just a little. It made him miss Piotr even if they _were _still living in the same house. "Oh yeah..." he sighed, "I said 'surely it's Russian'..."

Rogue nodded, getting to the door, "and he said 'no, it's American. It just came that way'..." She smiled just a little faintly, as if she were remembering something. The time he'd told her maybe, or perhaps she could see it for herself in her head from memories she'd long since stolen from him.

Remy gave a light laugh. He missed the old days hanging out with Piotr, the laughs and the misunderstandings. He was glad for the subject change, it took his mind briefly away from his lust.

_Suppose I should try to build some bridges with Pete. Maybe it'll be easier now that he's decided to go out with Rogue...maybe he won't be pissed off with me any more about moving on without her. Maybe he'll even be grateful as it's given him the freedom to ask her out..._

_ "_Rogue..." Remy said, she'd been about to go but he couldn't leave it like that. He had to say something.

"Hmm?" she asked, stopping there at the doorway, her hand on the frame. She looked over her shoulder at him, looking so tired and defeated that his heart oddly ached. He hadn't seen her look so very sad since before she'd left for Muir Island.

"Don't...let anythin' Scott said change what you've been doin'...or how you've been thinkin'," he pleaded of her. "You've been doin' so well..."

Her eyes fell to the floor almost nervously, her lip quivered just a little.

"You're stronger than that, to let somethin' a stupid guy does fuck everythin' up for you. Everyone tells me you do _everythin'_ you've got a mind to do...nothin' can stop you when you've got a mind to do it," Remy continued, "I hope that your recoverin' properly counts when it comes to that..."

She paused, thinking about this, "Ah didn't spend three months in therapy to let somethin' _a boy_ says be what turns it all around," she agreed. "Ah want to move on, Remy...Ah don't want to go back to that..."

"I don't want you to either...don't let anythin' stand in your way, okay?"

"Okay," she sighed, and she left the room silently, closing the door behind herself.

When she was gone, Remy retrieved the pack of diarrhoea relief from beneath his thigh, popped a pill from the pack and swallowed it dry, grimacing at the chalky taste.

_Lets hope I get a night's sleep without spendin' most of it in the bathroom _or _without spendin' most of it with an uncomfortable stiffy,_ he thought as he stood up and went to take a shower. He glanced at the toilet as he unbuckled his belt wondering if he'd be spending the night in a cold shower, or being the king of idiots on the porcelain throne.

* * *

**End of Part Nineteen**

* * *

**Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh, yet another update, and I'm knackered (but I'm still going to stay up late to play Watchdogs, because I'm just THAT dedicated to my weekend lol). Thanks to all for the amazing reviews from the last chapter. I do agree, Rowan is so annoying with her big tits, cucumbers and desires for Remy (even if she hasn't done anything to warrant the hatred lol). **

**Who all predicted Scott's reaction? Lmao. At least Remy was man enough to step up and defend Rogue. Sure there'll be some interpretations of that and of everything else. I hope you're all having a super weekend and also have a super week (Ekster, hopefully you have a grand old time in the land of Scots, I'll send a virtual wave from Edinburgh and we can pretend we were in vaguely the same airspace, lmao). Thanks to ishandahalf who isn't going to hassle me about Rowan (phew!, load off my mind! Maybe I can come out of hiding now!).**

**Anyway off to play PS3 while I plan out the end of part 36...lol.**


End file.
